


Fallen Prince

by Kawaiikidney



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, i really don't know how to tag this one, super dramatic emotional drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiikidney/pseuds/Kawaiikidney
Summary: 「見て、兄者！見て！」A small boy joyously pointed out a massive glass window. The sight was breathtaking; Earth, in all its glory, was there. Stars and vast darkness danced around the massive blue sphere. Bright specks of lights littered estranged continents their parents had pointed out throughout the years. North and South America. Asia. Europe. All of them full to the brim with teeming lights and life.Genji pointed out one of the ‘Earth-eyes’ he was so fond of, which were formations of clouds that swirled atop the planet and formed an “eye”. This one in particular swiveled atop an ocean, rotating and morphing as it traveled near what Hanzo could only guess was North America.「きれいよ。」Hanzo sighed, staring back at the worn book in his hands, hoping that Genji would understand he was too busy to talk. The beauty of Earth had lost its touch over the years. He knew he’d never be able to see the world up-close, only ever afar, just as the generations of Shimada before him.Besides, humans were savages, their history was long and bloody. Going there would only threaten him and his family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago in like, two days, and got really discouraged with the direction I was taking it in, so I sort of abandoned it. I don't think it's that bad but I'm not sure it's one of my best works-- definitely a long one, though. I guess this fic was sort of a way for me to vent out some of the things that bother me about the world around me. In a sense I'm Hanzo...  
> That was dramatic.  
> Anyways, I'm not gonna spend too much time editing this, I think. I'm just gonna post what I've got and hope it pleases some people! Do tell me your thoughts on this one, guys :)

The forest swayed alongside a gentle breeze, branches swung and the richly-green leaves shook in time, all else the noise of teeming wildlife. Sounds of pure life coursed throughout the forest, the grunts of night animals and songs of all night-dwellers. In the heart of the forest, trees cleared out to make room for a deep lake, which shimmered and rippled as the soft breeze brushed across its surface, dancing the same, soft dance as the rest of the forest. A dance to ease and gentle those inhabitants and to allow for all of the land to feel calmed. 

A lone cricket quieted as a larger doe, meters away from her unit, wandered near the pool of water. She lowered her head to feast on the dew-filled grass there.   
Her ear flickered at a strange, distinct, and wholly unnatural sound. It disrupted and quieted the forest’s song around her so quickly her body tensed in unease. She gazed around, scrutinizing as the now silent scenery revealed nothing. No golden-eyed predators, nor the furless two-legs that cut down their homes. The doe returned to her meal under high alert, yet the noise persisted. Her ears drew back in apprehension, trying to pinpoint the source so she could scamper away in the opposite direction. Once the booming noise became unbearably loud, she turned and fled back to the rest of her herd and they, in turn, raced away from whatever the horrid sound was. 

As if in sync, every animal in the immediate vicinity grew increasingly disturbed, confused, and readied for their own escape. No longer did they chatter away the night; they sat with hackles raised, silenced, attentive and readied. 

Above them, in the star-clustered sky, a massive object plummeted downwar, hurtling toward the lake. It was without doubt the source of the noise. Animals dashed away, several hares scampered into their underground homes, a cloud of birds spread their wings in a mad dash to leave, leaving behind an aggressive swirl of feathers in their urgency. 

The object crashed.

A boom, loud enough to challenge thunder, resonated for miles. A cacophony of birds exploded from resident trees and left behind caws of terror, fright, and confusion in their path. The shoreline of the lake rippled violently upon impact, massive waves crashing onto the opposite bank, drenching the floodplain. The moon’s reflection distorted on the surface of the black lake. Two figures untangled, one of which was a massive creature that tumbled far from the body of water. Skidding to a halt, it stopped a few feet away, ragged breathing the only indication of it being alive. A low, pained groan emanated from it. 

The rumbling noise belonged to a bestial creature that did not belong in the timid forest. A large maw curled upward in a deep grimace, revealing fangs as sharp as blades. This creature was a dragon. Her vibrant, blue scales tarnished by the Earth and various bloodied gashes reflected moonlight dully. Although wounded, she willed herself to stand, her four trembling legs just barely strong enough to support her own weight. Golden eyes flickered around the trees, the lake, the shoreline, everywhere, in search for something. For someone. 

There, with tamed water lapping at his legs laid a man belly-down. His silk clothes were tattered and mud coated most of him. Moonlight brightened his skin, highlighting the traitorous marks and bruises that did not belong. The dragon rushed towards him, ignoring all pain, and nudged his shoulder, a high-pitched, keening noise rumbling out. For a second, she padded the floor with her front claws, hoping that he would awaken sensing her tension. 

Worry cemented when Hanzo, the one she was set to protect, was unresponsive. She could still sense that he was alive, and with a quick sniff she confirmed it, but him being knocked out after such a fall… With sharp and careful teeth she picked up Hanzo by the collar and dragged him further inland. 

In the midst of pulling Hanzo, one of her dulled scales fell off, disintegrating and blowing away with the wind before it could grace the ground. She hadn’t much time, now. Already she was starting to disappear; returning to her spiritual slumber for recuperation, to leave her human. 

The dragon placed him next to a sturdy tree that was as thick as she was, allowing for her to wrap herself around him protectively. She rested her head on the ground just as the strongest wave of exhaustion hit her, lidded eyes fighting to remain open. Despite the exhaustion, the dragon was hyper vigilant of the foreign world around her.

Another scale disappeared.

She couldn’t leave Hanzo alone in such an unfamiliar world to fend for himself, she had to remain as long as she could in order to protect him, regardless of the pain and tiredness that threatened to dismantle her. The forest was quieter than ever, save for the wind, constantly blowing. It trembled the leaves and made all seem alive-- it frightened her. She remained with Hanzo for hours, fighting her exhaustion, waiting for him to awaken. Everything caught her attention, several times over she mistook wind as an indicator of a threat. At one point she almost stood defend Hanzo, but her body was much too weak to perform such an action. Nothing appeared from the dying darkness. 

This pattern kept up for several hours. Hanzo was dead asleep throughout the night and with pained eyes she watched as the moon fell and the sky dulled stars, the shifting firmament began to brighten. As the sun rose the dragon’s heavy eyelids shut. She could no longer stay awake to ensure the Prince’s safety, but the urge to return as soon as possible burned in deep in her core. 

Her form fell away with a strong gust of wind as the morning sun illuminated the land around Hanzo, though silence prevailed in the woods, not a single creature daring to challenge the being that fell, it was nicer than night. The shadows seemed not so frightening. 

The sound of oncoming footsteps did not wake Hanzo. Not even the sound of a heavy Southern accent hooting at the sight of him. 

🐉🐉🐉

Hanzo woke up in a warm bed with sheets wrapped around him, encasing his entire self in a cocoon. 

At first, everything was warm. Comfortable. 

Then all the drowsiness he felt vanished when he realized that the ceiling was a murky brown color, where he expected a brilliant white. This was not his room, or his bed. He threw off the covers and tried to jump out to assess the situation, but the second he stood up, a sharp pain shot up his leg and forced him down. Hanzo huffed out and inspected the culprit: his right foot. He noted the slight discoloration and mild swelling. If it was broken or sprained he had no idea. How the hell was he supposed to do anything in this condition? There were stick-on bandages littering his arms, and an ace on his elbow. He looked lower still. 

Oh. 

Hanzo was naked, save for his underwear. What remained of his old clothes were in a corner, too tattered to even fold. He saw faint and dark bruises that colored his thighs, arms, and pains elsewhere that indicated more bruises. It faintly reminded him of a toddler’s coloring book gone wrong. What in the moon happened to him? 

A pang of fear struck him. Someone had taken care of him.

Who? 

Hanzo refocused himself before delving headfirst into his thoughts. He had to figure out where he was, how to escape, and hopefully find something to wear. Hanzo scrutinized his surroundings. The room around him was bare with wooden walls and a single window to the right of him. Dim sunlight pooled through as his only source of light. There was a closet with no door on the left wall that was painfully small and, upon inspection, harbored two empty coat hangers. There was one wooden door on the wall in front of pushed off to the right side. The bed he was on had sheets decorated with strange floral patterns, and he could tell someone had taken a curious amount of effort to make the intricate designs. To his left, there was a wooden, glossy nightstand with a change of clothes and a sweating cup of water. 

He quickly reached over (as quick as his pained body could move) and snatched the pair of tattered jeans and a white shirt, inspecting them with disdain. Whoever had given him the clothes had no sense of style. Still, he could not complain; being dressed in bad clothes was better than being naked in a stranger’s home. 

Once he’d struggled to put on his clothes, which were surprisingly form-fitting, Hanzo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, silencing the drum of his heart. What happened? He was just in the castle, with Genji. Where was he? What-- 

The memory came rushing back as if he were reliving it. 

The moon was under siege-- Talon forces had finally cracked through their defenses and were in the midst of raiding the Shimada castle, killing or enslaving whoever crossed their path. Several family members had perished in their retaliation-- Hanzo had witnessed. The Shimada dragons were no match for the sheer scale of the horde, leaving his father with no other choice but to send him and Genji off to Earth. Hanzo and his brother took their pitious retreat.

_Genji’s fearful eyes landed on Hanzo’s and he forced a grin that screamed terror in guise. He said something, breathlessly, about how this was going to be an adventure, then shirked away when Hanzo offered a silent glare. This was no time for games. The sound of a bloodied clashing rang outside and Hanzo ignored the implications; the Shimadas had long but surrendered in hopes to offer them time. In front of them, their dragons took their physical forms, two beasts at least the size of a bus, shimmering green and vibrant blue scales reflecting the lights of flames behind them. Ame glanced over at Hanzo with a look in her eye that indicated they must leave immediately, though it felt reluctant. He knew her instincts screamed to defend home, but the feeling to protecting her mortal was an instinct far stronger than that._

_The smell of fire, ash, and murder clogged his throat; choked him. He ignored that, too. The brothers clambered onto the backs of their dragons without difficulty; it was something they had done often in their adolescents, though back then it was to play. Now they were running for their lives._

_Their escape had been clear, at first. Hanzo watched his castle stand while the village around burned to a crisp, and he saw it become smaller and smaller. When he glanced at his brother, Genji was staring straight ahead, at the massive planet they had only ever seen from afar. Earth was getting closer, larger, and impossibly daunting. The need to retaliate the invasion threatened to overtake his whole body as he thought of his family, their deaths, and his cowardly escape._

_Hanzo should have been paying attention._

_His emotions had distracted him._

_Genji’s terror-filled face was the last image he recalled._

Hanzo opened his eyes, glancing around frantically, as if the walls would whisper to him his brother’s whereabouts, or the castle’s status, or a single piece of information as to where he was. The eerie silence only served to put him on edge. He had to catch his breathing from the brink of hyperventilation. 

_Focus._

Hanzo made it to… somewhere, most likely Earth… Where was his brother? Ignoring the shooting pain running up his leg, he forced himself to stand up and limp to the door as quiet as he could. He could only anticipate Genji was there as well, wherever ‘there’ was.

And if he wasn’t… 

When Hanzo opened the door, he was face to face with a bearded man in a ridiculous hat. The man’s face had a look of pure surprise, borderline joy upon seeing him. Hanzo’s body reacted faster than he could think; he threw himself onto the stranger, crashed onto the opposite wall and bared his teeth. To discourage movement, he put his arm against the man’s throat. 

「あなたが誰か？！ゲンジさんはどこですか？！」Hanzo hissed, demanding answers faster than the strange-looking man could procure them. His heart was beating rapid and his hands felt like they were trembling. 

“I--,” the man began, grimacing as the pressure Hanzo put on his neck increased, “I’m not quite gettin’ you, sugar, you know any English?” He tried to smile through the awkward position, only for Hanzo to push against his throat just a little harder, making him contort his face in pain instead with a soft, gurgled grunt.

After a second of thought to switch languages, Hanzo spat, “Who are you? Where is Genji?” He said in a shaky tone, grip unrelenting, his accent thick with Japanese. If this man was a threat, he could deal with him and be off to help his brother. If not, he could hold valuable information.

“Well darlin’, I’d be happy to answer if-- if you just let me go,” the man’s voice strained, prompting Hanzo to release some of the pressure. 

“One wrong move and I will kill you,” Hanzo’s threat was not gone without vice, seeing as he was half ready to choke out the man. The stranger’s face conveyed no fear, though it held a serious note of respect. Hanzo released him and the man coughed in relief, muttering some heartfelt profanities while rubbing his neck. When Hanzo stepped back, with slight difficulty thanks to the now-throbbing pain from his foot, he noted the man was wearing a pair of obnoxious boots. 

The cowboy fixed his hat and cleared his throat before speaking, “I ain’t trynna harm you, sugar,” the nickname made Hanzo’s look darken, “Uh, I mean--The name’s Jesse McCree. I found you out in the forest yesterday mornin’, you were passed out next to the lake ‘round here. Couldn’t leave you out there like that, there’s some dangerous shit in the woods. Looked like you got fucked up real bad by someone, or som’.” 

Two nights ago? Then he’d been out for a whole day. “Where is Genji?” That was all he wanted to figure out-- to make sure Genji had survived, or at least fallen near him… 

“I don’t know who you’re referrin’ to but you were the only one out there,” McCree said, dusting himself off. “‘Least when I went back to check ‘round once I carried you in.” He paused, “Uh, had to take off your dirty clothes ‘cause I had to tend to your wounds. Left my old outfit— I didn’t think my clothes would fit ya, but you look great!” If that was a compliment, he ignored it all together. 

Hanzo felt a hint of guilt for pinning the guy that helped him. Still, he had been knocked out long enough for Genji’s trail to have gone cold if he had landed anywhere near them. He needed to start searching. “Where am I?” 

“Now hold on,” said the cowboy, tone sly, “I answered your questions, now you gotta answer some o’ mine.” He crossed his arms, and squinted his eyes at Hanzo. “Who are you? What happened to ya?” McCree’s eyes were cutting, analyzing Hanzo deeper than he felt comfortable, picking apart how Hanzo functioned. After an eternity of them looking at one another, as if they were testing one another, McCree relented and looked the other way briefly and sighed out in a gentle tone, “You look pretty far from home.” 

Hanzo didn’t expect to be questioned, but it was only fair to respond. The prince bristled while answering, “My name is Hanzo, and if it’s really so important to you, I was attacked.” He was aware humans had limited to no understanding of the kingdom he was set to rule, so outright stating he came from the moon would be a terrible idea. 

McCree’s eyebrows shot up and he uncrossed his arms, “‘Attacked’? By who?” 

Hanzo scowled, trying his best not to snap at the fool. If this guy was like the rest of the mortals, Hanzo was going to have a very difficult time adjusting. “It is none of your concern.”

“None of my--?” McCree shook his head. “I’m only askin’ ‘cus I don’t want much trouble near me. I’ve had enough for one lifetime, darlin’.” Hanzo bore an unimpressed expression, prompting McCree to raise his arms in defeat. “Right, right, fine, I ain’t gonna pry. Sheesh.” Then, as a quiet afterthought, “You’d think someone’d be thankin’ ya after savin’ their sorry asses.” 

Hanzo had enough of the petty squabble. His brother could be roaming the planet hurt, dead, or worse; he didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with the cowboy. “I appreciate what you have done to aid me, but your services will no longer be necessary.” He braced himself against the wall closest to him and looked around, “Where is the exit?” 

“It’s o— wait, ya can’t just leave,” McCree said, frowning. “Y’can’t go nowhere with a bum leg like that.”

“And you expect me to remain with you?” The prince threw a suspicious glare toward McCree, who shrugged and scratched his neck.

“Well, uh, yeah,” the cowboy almost looked abashed, “I mean, I can see you don’ like me and all of that, but I can’t resist helpin’ a person in need. So, just stay here, ‘till your leg heals.” There wasn’t a trace of a lie in McCree’s features, simply genuine humbleness. Hanzo’d assessed throughout the conversation that this man wasn’t a threat, but he wasn’t to be easily trusted. Plus, McCree was right. A ‘bum’ foot like Hanzo’s wouldn’t get him very far, Earth was massive compared to the Moon. 

And the man could prove useful in at least letting him know where he was. 

Hanzo sighed out, glancing at the intricate tattoo that dominated his arm. The warping blue dragon that hissed out strength and emanated raw power. A reminder of his duty, and a gateway to his spirit. He felt his dragon, Ame, rumbling faintly, enough for him to understand she was in no condition to make an appearance. He knew it would be pointless to leave. “Fine,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away from McCree. 

Hanzo shut the door before the man could say another word, leaning against it until he heard two heavy footsteps clunking out of the hallway. McCree whistled a tune Hanzo had never heard. 

He hated it. 

🐉🐉🐉

A full week of bedrest flew by before he knew it. The room Hanzo settled in was dulled by how long he stared at each crack, each mistake, each imperfection. In the week, Hanzo could only fall into the depth of his thoughts; delve into the core of his fear. 

_What now?_

The castle was no longer under Shimada control. He would have been rescued days ago. Everything he had lived for, he had suffered for, bled for, was no longer. 

His purpose had up and disappeared, as if it was never there to begin with. Not even Ame had reached out to him yet. 

He was, by all intents and purposes, alone. A feeling he had never felt before that settled in his chest and spread throughout each limb, a numbing reminder of his solitude. 

A single decent occurrence was McCree bringing ‘homemade food’ to Hanzo daily, which in all honesty wasn’t bad. Usually the cowboy made eggs for breakfast, yet Hanzo had enjoyed a steaming pile of pancakes on Monday. He brought in lunch and dinner afterwards, which Hanzo learned could be any weird Earthen meal. He had stopped anticipating what came next on the third day when he got a ‘chicken pot pie’ for dinner. 

Hanzo appreciated McCree’s kindness, despite wanting to bolt the second he could properly stand… the cowboy often idled long enough after offering food to speak, but not long enough to earn a death glare from Hanzo. He’d figured that out the hard way. Their interactions did manage to subdue some of the crushing loneliness that confined Hanzo. He’d rather break his foot than admit that, though. 

Hanzo came to learn a few things from the strange man through these fleeting discussions. First, he was a farmer. Not a commercial one, just someone with enough cash to check out for the rest of his life and enjoy the ‘countryside’. Self-sufficient, was what he said. Most of the explanation didn’t really make much sense to Hanzo but he knew better than to pry for information. Second, McCree had no immediate family. Said that he “wasn’t in touch”, whatever that meant.   
Most interestingly, McCree’s past was a mystery. Hanzo had even tried to ask in a subtle way, but the cowboy didn’t even budge. Just chuckled and tipped the brim of his hat to shroud his eyes. Why in the world he wore a hat indoors was beyond Hanzo.

He found it, on some level, amusing for two strangers too reluctant to confide in one another cohabiting. It left room for Hanzo to speculate the cowboy’s past life as a pastime, but every time he thought of McCree, he felt less and less sure that he disliked the man. 

It irritated him. 

Saturday morning rolled around and the sun threw lazy beams into his room. The ancient digital clock perched on the bedside flashed 7 AM in bold red, almost matching the color of his own dry eyes. Right next to the clock was a glass of water he’d been eyeing since three AM, but had been too unmotivated and restless to bring himself to drink it. 

Sleep had been scarce that night. All Hanzo could think about was his home, how much he missed it all, how much he missed his otouto. His own body wanted to leave and search for his brother, but he couldn’t. 

It plagued his waking and sleeping mind, inhibiting the bliss of unconsciousness. The endless possibilities and outcomes that have befallen his home and family ranged from apocalyptic to heavenly. Hanzo opted the latter was a mere fantasy to prevent the last bits of his sanity from falling apart. Adding onto his mental stress, he was beyond bored laying in bed. There weren’t any books and with all the kindness McCree had extended thus far, asking for more was an insult to his hospitality and add to a growing debt. All he had to look forward to was McCree bringing him food and talking for a few minutes. As if Hanzo were some animal to feed and care for only to turn to their luxuries later. 

Cursed foot. Cursed Earth. Cursed hospitality. Hanzo was only becoming indebted to McCree with every moment he stayed in the house. He needed to leave as soon as possible, else the anxiety, guilt, anger and boredom would kill him long before anything else would. 

Determined, Hanzo experimentally stood up from the bed. He wanted to flinch and sit back down as a faux wave of pain flushed up his leg, only to realize there was no real pain and he was capable of supporting weight on both feet. He leaned all his weight on the bum foot and felt only mild discomfort. Perfect. More than perfect. He could finally leave the damned house and get his life in order. With a beat in his step, Hanzo made his way to the window and peered out, watching as the morning sun warmed the dew-filled grass and the tall, green trees bathed under its light.

Although the scene was almost poetic, it was dulled and unimpressive from how stained the window was. Hanzo glanced around, searching for anything that could grab his interest outside. Maybe McCree was out, doing some farm-y stuff and he should avoid him, or perhaps there was--

 _There._ To the right, a beaten path with old footprints and tracks alike captured his curiosity. It was barely visible from his spot next to the window, but he could see it. He could see it reached farther than his eyes could register.

Where would that lead to?

The hope he had for rescuing his brother skyrocketed once more, enough for him to grab several articles of clothing McCree had given him, shove it into a small bag he’d found in the bathroom two nights prior, and take a swig of the water. 

Now the moonlander could go out and search for Genji… perhaps Ame would assist, if she woke up from the sleep she had fallen into. Part of Hanzo worried Ame was lost to him forever, but the gentle purr she released whenever he reached out made him rethink.

A small twinge of guilt blossomed in his chest when he realized McCree would make a meal for two, only to figure out Hanzo had bounced hours prior.   
Focus. Hanzo breathed out, trying to spare any of his thoughts from falling on McCree. That man had shown too much kindness. It was a double-edge sword; surely his niceness had underlying intentions that Hanzo had not noticed. Humans were unpredictable and untrustworthy and certainly charismatic, he had to be wary from now on. 

Hanzo returned to the window that separated him from the rest of the world. Anxiety bubbled in his chest, threatening to burst aflame and envelope him and make him retreat to the bed to force him to lay in pure regret. His fingers traced the windowsill for a brief moment, and a fleeting thought froze him: am I going to be safe out there? 

Before he allowed his mind to control him, Hanzo forced the window open, frame creaking loud enough to alert the whole house of his actions. He furrowed his brows, stayed perfectly still for thirty seconds to listen, then pressed on, slipping out and stepping onto the rich, swaying grass. Cool wind kissed his flesh and the sun’s rays warmed him entirely. It felt as if a silk blanket was thrown onto him. 

Serenity washed over Hanzo. For the first time since he landed on Earth, he could truly appreciate its beauty. Greenery was so… astounding, up close. The air was refreshing in comparison to the staleness captivated in McCree’s house. Even the ambiance, consisting of sing-song birds and rustling leaves, sounded so crisp and alive that it startled him. 

An innate part of Hanzo wanted to roll around in the dirt and feel the grass itch his skin, lay down and watch the clouds while sucking up as much vitamin D as he could. He dutifully repressed the urge and instead made his way to the dirt road, keeping an eye on his surroundings.

As Hanzo walked further and further away from the cabin in the woods, he felt a newfound sense of freedom. Chattering birds and animals allowed him to reflect on how truly different Earth was to the moon, and how different he had chalked it up to be. An unbidden memory surfaced. 

 

_「見て、兄者！見て！」A small boy joyously pointed out a massive glass window. The sight was breathtaking; Earth, in all its glory, was there. Stars and vast darkness danced around the massive blue sphere. Bright specks of lights littered estranged continents their parents had pointed out throughout the years. North and South America. Asia. Europe. All of them full to the brim with teeming lights and life._

_Genji pointed out one of the ‘Earth-eyes’ he was so fond of, which were formations of clouds that swirled atop the planet and formed an “eye”. This one in particular swiveled atop an ocean, rotating and morphing as it traveled near what Hanzo could only guess was North America._

_「きれいよ。」Hanzo sighed, staring back at the worn book in his hands, hoping that Genji would understand he was too busy to talk. The beauty of Earth had lost its touch over the years. He knew he’d never be able to see the world up-close, only ever afar, just as the generations of Shimada before him._

_Besides, humans were savages, their history was long and bloody. Going there would only threaten him and his family._

_Genji turned to Hanzo and smiled, curious eyes searching his brother’s face. Every word in the book Hanzo read was unregistered, he could feel his brother staring at him._

_Genji stole away his attention as he ran up and asked in sweetest voice he could muster「ある日、行こう。私は地球を見たいです。」_

_He wanted to go to Earth._


	2. Found

Sunlight melted away into gentle dusk when Hanzo finally stumbled upon the outskirts of a town. The path he’d traveled was empty aside from strange animals that skittered past him on the way. He had been walking for hours on end, hunger and thirst at its peak and an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint festering in his stomach. The ground had been uneven on the dirt-packed road and he’d stumbled several times on divots where he had anticipated solid ground. Hanzo had forgotten to snatch food or water when leaving McCree’s house, meaning he’d have to buy something in town. Or barter some of his clothes? He wasn’t certain how currency worked for humans. Or how currency worked in general since he’d not required any form of it while living in the castle. That thought alone brought embarrassment to him; he should have learned some economics, yet the best he knew was advanced mathematics, sciences, and Shimada history.

He scratched his arm, and his leg, and his face, bugs and sweat and sun having irritated his flesh beyond belief. How could humans live like this? They were under so many elements, Hanzo could barely keep up with already. He smacked a mosquito that settled on him and scowled as a spot of blood stuck to his arm. Gross. 

Wiping away the blood on his shirt, he studied the town; it was, in retrospect, relatively small, yet to Hanzo, the place was large and daunting. It was the first settlement he’d ever come across, and the first place to start his search. Dim lights flickered on and traces of people could be seen. 

A familiar sense of dread crawled up his stomach and spread across his chest, squeezing his heart and seizing his mind, almost immobilizing him and keeping him from taking the first step. _I won’t fit in. They’ll figure me out. I don’t understand Earth customs. The government will take me. Talon will find me. Talon will kill me._ Hanzo shut his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. Whatever terror struck him, he would not allow himself be stopped. Genji was out there, most likely the last member of his family still alive and breathing and he was alone, so no matter how scared Hanzo was, he had to move. He forced himself to step forward, closer to the buildings that made up the town. 

One foot after the other, the dread slowly relented, and in time he was in the town. The ground was now solid pavement, most similar to the flooring in the castle for it being solid, though he faintly recalled them using materials no Earthen could acquire. There was liveliness in and around the buildings with townsfolk walking, talking, and even drinking, one storefront in particular harboring a sign with the name “Omnic Bar” stylistically written. A glance inside revealed… robots. They were doing various things, most of it looked like socializing. He was aware Earth technology was advanced, but that was just… Strange.

Hanzo tore his eyes away in favor of analyzing how the stores and houses intermingled; there wasn’t a sense of separation there, everything was walking distance. People had yet to lay eyes on him as he traipsed in, and after a few heart-stopping moments, Hanzo let some tension fall from his shoulders. 

They were ignoring him. Strangers weren’t of a concern to these people and they had plenty else to worry about. No one bat an eye in his direction, and when they did, it was for a mere second, then they just as quickly glanced away. Hanzo took note that some Earth people didn’t approach each other and kept a respectable distance, somewhat similar to the commoners that lived on Shimada grounds. Although those people bowed whenever they caught sight of Hanzo, which definitely was not the case here on Earth. He could not say if he preferred this or not. 

He kept walking farther into the town, confidence building with each step, final rays of sunlight dying to make room for the dark blue night. Hanzo didn’t dare look up at the moon, he was a man on a mission. There was a library, a weird-looking place that had a huge cross and colorful windows that reflected the last bit of sun, a place with many strange shoes on display. As he went on he encountered many stores with odd-looking clothes. A shop that had, what he guessed was food, looked so unappealing he ventured further to see if there were any other options. There was a cool breeze that bit his skin, and he noticed the humans were wearing similar long-sleeved attire. 

Jackets, he remembered Genji mentioning it once. Jackets for cold weather. Another difference between Earth and the moon; the only thing Shimadas needed to wear was their traditional garb. Everything else was useless since there was no real climate in the moon and they hadn’t the necessity of changing their clothing to match seasons, except for lunar eclipses. Those were frigid cold times that forced them to wear their strongest fur coats. 

 

Hanzo was so lost in thought, he failed to notice one person in particular, mixed in the sparse crowd, staring him down. There was this feeling of someone watching him but he attributed it to the many people in the small town. 

 

He kept walking, aimless for now, hoping to find something that would grab his attention. Maybe how to get food and water, either or, or any sign of his brother.

It was strange. He’d gotten this far, and now he just… wasn’t sure what to do. There were people, twenty to thirty, and robots of the same amount, and none of them looked approachable. None of them struck him as knowing his brother’s whereabouts. The confidence that he’d developed was cracking away. What was he supposed to do now? Wait for Ame to awaken, see if she could pick up Genji’s scent? That outcome didn’t seem likely. It’d been a week of her being dead asleep and Hanzo wasn’t sure when she would awaken. An unbidden thought questioned if she would wake up.

 

Nothing really gave him time to register what happened.

 

Someone grabbed his arm. Hanzo’s blood ran ice cold. They whispered harshly, and he could feel their hot breath on his neck. “Act normal, or I’ll kill you on the spot.” It was a man’s voice and grip, Hanzo’s heart was in his throat. People walked past without so much as a glance, and for once Hanzo prayed they would spare a single look. 

They didn’t. 

The assailant’s grip tightened. _I know how to defend myself._ Hanzo was frozen. _All I learned to DO was how to keep myself safe, martial arts--_ “You’re gonna follow me, and I’m going to turn you in. If you so much as think of disobeying I swear I’ll kill you. They don’t care if you’re dead or alive.”

 

That cold fear traveled all throughout him, pin pricking his arms and legs. Calling him to action. His body refused to move. 

 

_Talon. Talon. It’s Talon. They found me._

 

The second that frantic thought crossed his mind, the world around him altered. A wave of powerful dizziness hit him and pure silence, save for his beating heart, replaced the din of the world around him. Chattering ceased, as did the sound of footsteps, and the buzz of neon signs. He couldn’t make sense of it, but time stopped. Humans walking near him came to a complete standstill. A moth that had been hitting a street lamp stopped mid-air. 

Before he could analyze the situation, his eyesight failed him. Everything blurred, darkened and disappeared; an odd, yet powerful rippling sensation ran across his entire body. It was an indescribable feeling, like every atom in his body was electrifying and buzzing and stretching out and away and escaping him all at once. 

What was happening? Was he being drugged? Was he passing out? 

Was he dying? 

 

As quickly as it came on, it all just suddenly… stopped. His body wasn’t vibrating. 

 

When Hanzo opened his eyes again, the town was gone. Everything was gone, for that matter. 

He was in an endless field of grass and the sky was pitch black. The grass was up to his waist and was white, no wind came to disturb it. That couldn’t be right. When was the last time he’d ever seen white grass? He reached out to touch it, only to come to the startling realization that his hand and arm and body were also milky white. Not only that, but it didn’t quite look like a body-- more like… _energy_. Crackling energy that would not sit despite how hard Hanzo tried to control it. Hanzo looked up out of sheer confusion, trying to comprehend his surroundings. Maybe it was the moon that lit his skin oddly--

What he came to understand was worse than he expected. There was no moon, or stars, or a single indication that he was looking at a sky to begin with. It was just an inky black vortex of space, the deepest part of the universe farthest away from any starlight. He felt like he was staring into a black hole. It made him feel empty. Averting his eyes, Hanzo tried peering into the distance-- maybe there’d be something around to help him figure things out.

There was nothing but tall grass. Behind him, in front, in all directions, everything was comprised of tall, solid-white grass. 

It dawned on Hanzo that he was officially dead. Somehow, someway, he had angered his assailant and had been swiftly snuffed out. Throughout the years he’s lived and anticipated death, he expected to have immense fear and anguish, yet… That never came. What did wash over him was a complete, unadulterated sense of peace. It wasn’t overwhelming or underwhelming but it was confusing and right. He had no idea how to feel and so much of him was screaming not to care. To enjoy the peace, embrace death, relinquish what bothersome experiences life brought upon him. 

Okay. 

Well, if he was dead, then what else was there to do than begin exploring? 

Hanzo walked forward as a test, unsure if it was something he was capable of doing. Sure enough, it was like walking in his normal body, just… Lighter. Freer. Almost liberating, the sensation of movement without his physical form. Each step he took made the grass move in a chain reaction as small waves, traveling away from him as if he were an epicenter, rolling farther than his eyes could see. 

So this was it. The Afterlife. 

He’d expected more relatives, but this wasn’t bad. 

Perhaps he had to make it somewhere and reach a destination. He tried to breathe in and prepare himself, but Hanzo noticed that he couldn’t do that. Not like he was choking to death or anything, breathing was just unnecessary. 

He tried not to dwell on it. Hanzo began to walk, watching as the waves of grass moved away from him and never returned, only for other waves to go the same distance. None of them came back; they just kept on rolling for however large the afterlife was. Without the moon or sun, Hanzo couldn’t tell how long he had been walking. Minutes or hours. Days or weeks. He didn’t grow tired, thirsty, hungry, or felt much other than peace. It was all just forever and that didn’t scare him. It couldn’t scare him; that sense of peace overwhelmed all other emotions. 

It would have terrified him when he was alive, but it didn’t, now. Because he was one entity in a sea of grass that moved with him; he was everything and everything was him. Eternity didn’t scare him since it was him in every sense, and he, in turn, was eternity in every sense. It felt like he was himself and not himself-- he was it all at the same time that he was conscious to interpret it. It was something too hard to describe with words so he gave up and focused on how it felt, instead. It felt like he’d found his true self. 

At some point, when nothing had come into view aside from grass, Hanzo’s thoughts had drifted to his family, his brother, and even McCree. The normal regret and pain he felt in the living world did not accompany him in the Afterlife, which was something Hanzo could come to terms with. There he could judge his actions and mull over life without the constraints of time or the past fears that restrained his own thinking. He would miss the cowboy, really; he was awfully nice, and cared for Hanzo in a time of need. It was a shame they would not have the opportunity to meet once more, at least not for a long time.   
Just the thought made him almost laugh; sense of time was something he completely lacked now. 

 

In the distance, where the rolling grass moved and disappeared, Hanzo swore there was a flash of bright green, and a strange feeling bubbled inside. Not the peace he’d grown used to, it was a sadness. His steps quickened and Hanzo tried to reach the flash, he could not judge how far it had been in this plane, though part of him knew he would not make it; part of him knew he would “return soon”, return to wherever it was he’d go to and leave this place. 

A tug, as if the gods themselves were reaching in and pulling him out, rendered almost all thoughts null. 

Only one thing rang clear in his mind. 

 

_Otouto._

🐉🐉🐉

He woke up sputtering for breath, blinded, panic choking him and his body feeling as if it had been hit by a truck. His ears were in tune to the sharp beats of his heart, assuring him that he was alive. 

That didn’t prevent terror from wrapping its sharp claws about his heart.

Was he moving? He knew he was trying, but he couldn’t tell. His arms and legs felt numb as if they were logs instead of limbs. Nothing made sense. Had he been dead, before? Was he given another shot at life? Where was he? 

 

Slowly, Hanzo began to hear something. A soft, smooth, muttering voice, singing melodies, gentle sounds that allowed him to relax, to breathe in shaky breaths and blink away the dark cloud that blinded sight. It took a few minutes for him to actually see and hear anything, and even then everything was still blurry, unfocused. 

Hanzo was hugging someone, flushed fiercely against them, arms wrapped around their neck and he was holding on as if his life depended on it. The person was someone he knew, smelled awfully familiar--

 _McCree._ His plaid shirt and scent of dirt, cheap cigars and sweat gave it away.

Not only did this confounded him greatly, but it also sent a jolt of embarrassment up his body. Hanzo peeled away, bewilderment and panic spreading across his face as a fierce blush,「何-- What did… How did you--?” He looked around; the room was the same one he’d run from earlier. Yesterday? How long was he out? 

How’d he get back?

McCree was about to say something, he looked pensive and almost just as confused, but then a powerful sense of understanding washed over Hanzo. McCree saved him. How else would have he gotten there? Hanzo stared at him with critical eyes, “You-- I was dead, Talon-Talon got to me, killed me, how… How did you find me? How am I…” Alive?

McCree’s face betrayed no comprehension, a stony stare that was neither agreement or disagreement. Unease filled him and he wasn’t so sure he had been correct anymore. Surely a man like him would boast about saving Hanzo twice, in jest, if anything. “Ya disappeared for ten hours, and jus’ when I got this room tidied, ya broke down my front door. Passed out right there at my doorstep. Took me three damn hours t’fix that door, thank ya very much for that.” McCree’s tone was bordering snark, and his furrowed brows suggested he was much angrier than he was letting on. When surprise sunk into Hanzo’s features, McCree perked an eyebrow up and asked, “You really don’ remember?” Hanzo furrowed his brows in confusion, prompting McCree to sigh, shake his head in dismissal, breathe out, rub his chin, and stare at the ceiling. Hanzo had a sense that McCree was very displeased, whether or not it was the door thing he couldn’t tell. After a beat, McCree stared at Hanzo again, “What the hell happened? Who’s ‘Talon’?” 

“I was _kidnapped,"_ Hanzo couldn’t bite back the flow of information, although he knew it wasn’t a good idea to be talking about it. Hanzo couldn’t trust humans; he couldn’t trust McCree, but right then, it was like that didn’t matter. He so desperate that he needed to confide in someone; all other barricades he’d worked so long to put up had holes, they were crumbling. He went off about the town-- not the reason he went there, no, just the fact that he had been there. Said someone grabbed onto him, threatened to kill him and turn him in, how Hanzo thought he died, but didn’t actually. And then he woke up back there, at McCree’s, without a sliver of memory; he’d omitted details on his brush with death. Hanzo even explained how Talon were the people he was running away from.

As Hanzo recounted, he realized that the man who had grabbed him never mentioned Talon. He could not take chances in assuming, though. He was sure it was them, making sure he died so the Shimada lineage was completely wiped out. 

As he recounted, McCree hoisted himself up from the bed to sit on a chair right beside it to stare, bemused, from Hanzo to the flashing clock that sat on the nightstand. When Hanzo finished, bated breath trying to stabilize and heart caught in his throat, McCree pulled out his phone and typed something in. Hanzo almost got mad, because-- well, he just talked about what the hell happened and McCree was just going to type on some Earthen device and ignore him? 

“Look, I don’ know how ya got back, or what’cha did, but, uh, you’re the most wanted man in America right now, Partner,” he flipped the device’s screen to face Hanzo. There was a list of names and numbers and faces he didn’t know, but at the top, with his emotionless eyes and traditional Shimada attire was himself. A glance at his past, before anything had happened. It was almost surreal to see his old self staring back at him, enjoying the Shimada lifestyle as he currently sat next to a dolled up cowboy, in a house he’d been stuck in, on Earth itself. The place he’d dismissed so long as a land of savages. He narrowed his eyes and read the brief description of himself:

**“1. HANZO SHIMADA. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ARMED CRIMINAL. DEAD OR ALIVE. 30 MILLION USD REWARD.”**

Hanzo just stared at his own bounty with a dull emotion in his chest, staring with hollowness. Thirty million USD. He assumed that was a lot of money, since the people underneath him were 10 or 11 thousand by comparison. Out of all the ugly, fucked-up faces that fell below him, he was the one worth the most. Wanted the worst. He glanced at the other names briefly, seeing if perhaps his brother would be there. It was only him. He ignored what that implied. 

None of it added up. Even though he’d never even been on Earth, he was the one with the highest bounty? “I-- America wants me?” Hanzo, incredulous, questioned, both eyebrows shooting up in confusion. This was some sort of joke. If it was true, why hadn’t McCree just turned him in, already? Humans were greedy, and McCree was human. What separated him from the rest?

“More like, well, the government,” McCree clarified and pocketed the device. “They know you’re here, now. That guy that grabbed onto you prolly tipped off your location for a couple thousand.” He sighed. 

A beat of silence followed wherein both of them were reluctant to talk, to break the tension that set. 

“So,” Hanzo finally started, hoping McCree would just utter something that would fix his problems then and there. But then again, maybe McCree wanted the money, since they’d both just found out about the bounty. Maybe this cowman was sick of having a houseguest and would much rather have useless money in exchange for himself, Hanzo had to be on guard and ready to bounce the moment McCree showed any ill signs. 

What McCree said took Hanzo by surprise. 

“We’re gunna hafta run for it. Hit the road n’ hideout,” McCree shrugged, just like that, and leaned back against the chair to stare at his hands, then flicked off some lint from his pants. Casual movements of a man who accepted whatever came. “Or we both get caught and I get imprisoned for harboring a criminal.”   
“You could just as easily be turning me in,” Hanzo said, suspicion ringing clear in his tone, uncaring if it was insulting. Even after a week of being taken care of by McCree himself, he couldn’t trust the man, no matter what the hell he’d thought when he ‘died’. They didn’t know one another aside from passing conversations, and with everything that just happened, he couldn’t trust anyone. 

McCree shook his head and chuckled, “Nah, I can’t just turn ya in like that. I rescued ya, wouldn’t do me no good morally if I jus’ sent ya away to the feds.” He took a breath to add something else, shutting his mouth instead. It went unnoticed to Hanzo, who was reeling with all of the information that was being forced onto him. 

“I cannot just leave with you. Where will we go?” To Hanzo, that was just common sense. All he really knew was the damn room and the path to the town, everything else was new and unknown. The town also didn’t turn out to be the best place to go.

McCree chewed his bottom lip, where the thinnest parts of his beard sat. His light brown eyes bounced back from him to the clock, to the window, straining for an idea. Then he snapped his fingers as an answer manifested and his brilliant eyes jolted to Hanzo. “Well, got someone-- we can bounce for a few days an’ hide out in their place, start plannin’ som’ out, continue on from there. Whadd’ya say?” 

Hanzo exhaled sharply. It was an idea, but a rash one that sounded exhausting and most likely dangerous. “Just-- a moment, please.” Hanzo closed his eyes to think. McCree remained respectfully silent.

The American government, to which Hanzo assumed were similar to that of the Shimada government, didn’t seem like the most pleasant people to be stuck with, and the only person that was trying to help him was McCree, who was putting himself in jeopardy by just having Hanzo under his roof. So really his options were limited slim to none; putting up more of a fight would just be a waste of time. The only thing that really had him on edge was the fact that he wouldn’t be able to track his brother around the area if they left.

He really needed to consult Ame, but she didn’t even offer the feeling of her presence, no comforting rumbles under his skin. Simply a hollowness. He was quite certain it was just him overthinking things and that maybe she was still recovering from the crash, but even then, he had felt her presence earlier, and now it was just an empty gap where Ame had been. He ignored that to focus on the matters at hand. 

Opening his eyes, Hanzo realized McCree was now lighting up a cigar. He made a face, “Must you smoke that indoors?”

The man pulled away the lighter and sniffed as smoke poured out of his mouth. “Sorry. S’ a habit, n’ I’m a bit,” McCree paused, bit down on the cigar and breathed out smoke again, his body seeming to relax, “stressed.” The smoke rose from his lips to the ceiling and spread out, swirling and thinning and sending its aroma across all four corners of the room. It’d reek in there for hours. “So, ya in or not?” 

“Yes,” Hanzo said, a bit unnerved by how McCree chose to ask. Allowing his tensed shoulders to drop, he faced away from the smoke. “Although, I must admit, I do not know much about this area.”

“About that--,” he heard McCree shifting around on the wooden chair. It creaked ominously several times, as if McCree’s weight was almost too much for the old wood, “--If we’re gunna be runnin’ away from the fuckin’ government together, we should at least know a bit ‘bout one another. Where ya from?”  
It was a blunt question, one that made Hanzo frown in distaste. But McCree was right, in a way. They wouldn’t be able to travel as complete strangers, yet telling him the whole truth didn’t feel right. So Hanzo said, slowly, “I am from an… elite family. One you have never heard of, that has control over very, very important things.” McCree pulled away the cigar, billowed out more smoke, squinted his eyes at Hanzo.

“Like, one of those high-society kinda people? The one’s that conspirators rave about?” He snorted, as if he thought this was a joke, and said, “Lemme guess-- Talon’s out for ya ‘cause they hate your family. Right?” 

Hanzo offered Jesse an unimpressed stare and a curt nod. “Yes. You seem to know me well enough, so I think I am finished answering questions. Now it is my turn to ask. Who are you?”

“I’m a simple man. Farmer, as I said before.” He ashed some the cigar on the arm of the chair, his eyes trained on the clock, “grew up in this state, came back after an exciting life to settle down an’ live my life. But ya know how things work, ya can never really settle down, s’only gonna pick back up when ya expect it least.” It was an answer Hanzo found to be slightly unsatisfactory but he took it regardless, since he had not been too detailed, either. The sound of the crackling cigar filled the room for a beat, until the other man cleared his throat and said, “I know ya don’t want me to ask no more, but, curiosity’s also a bad habit o’ mine,” something briefly flashed in McCree’s eyes and Hanzo was able to pinpoint the exact emotion: regret. It was gone too fast to be certain. “Ah, hell, when ya woke up, you were yellin’ for someone.”

That took Hanzo by surprise, he was completely unable to remember that at all. McCree continued, carefully, as if knowing the subject was touchy. “You, uh, called out for Genji. Well, you were sayin’ it in Japanese but I could pick the name,” he scratched his beard and grimaced as if second guessing the question. “Who are they?”

Hanzo didn’t respond, but his cold and calculated stare was square on McCree. It was plain the man was getting slightly uncomfortable, and just when he’d thought the other would crack under the gaze, Hanzo eased out a low, “He is a relative of mine I have lost.” 

McCree breathed out some air he’d no doubt been holding. “Don’t’cha have a means of contactin’ him? Like a phone, or a number?”

Knowing not how numbers could help, Hanzo shook his head and said, “No more questions.” His voice was less assertive than usual. 

The smoke now filled up the room. Swirls danced all about him, drifting from the ceiling to the ground to back up into the ceiling, shooting out as ventilation propelled it forward, larger swirls bobbing up and down. The smell was overwhelming and nasty, Hanzo was tempted to crack open the window and escape again. 

Jesse muttered something too low for Hanzo to hear, only to reiterate it a pitch louder, “We got just ‘bout three or four hours, I’m guessin’, before they show up n’ bust down my busted door. I’ma get some stuff packed n’ I’ll make som’ to eat before we leave.” He stood up, removing the cigar from his mouth, “Ya can wait in the living room, if ya want. Take a right at the end of the hallway.” Ashes fell like snow from the burning, almost dead cigar, and McCree left to get prepared. 

The smoke still drafted around the room in lazy movements, but now it was more real smoke than any dramatic swirls. Like a fog that was trying to suffocate him. Too many things had been caught at his throat as of late-- Hanzo decided quickly that he wasn’t going to remain sitting in a room full of tobacco, so he stood up and walked out of the room. The hallway wasn’t long and Hanzo found himself in the living room, more awe-struck than anything.

There was a large kitchen that was sectioned off by a counter and the living room was modern and sleek. There were, unsurprisingly, many nods to the cowboy lifestyle-- paintings of horses and ranches, couch decorations that had murals of cows, and the horns of a particularly large beast mounted above the fireplace. It was a strange mixture of old and modern and Hanzo couldn’t even tell where it began and where it ended, but it was intriguing. For a brief moment, he forgot what the urgency was and focused in on how strange his surroundings were.

Human things were interesting. It was nothing like the moon, where everything was provided and he needn’t bother dealing with trivial things, such as decorations. Hanzo wandered into the kitchen and saw many odd objects, utensils he’d never seen before, a stovetop, a fridge, which was chock full of so many things he had to pry himself away from staring, a pantry full of more food, but it was strange food. Packaged, artificial, fake food that Hanzo scrunched his nose in distaste at. 

He had just set down a strange box that bore the name ‘cereal’ when McCree walked in, to which Hanzo promptly averted showing interest in anything. It did not suit to quell the cowman’s sharp perception, McCree’s eyebrow arched up, “Ya hungry? I was thinkin’ of makin’ fried chicken-- something quick, so we can leave before shit goes south.” 

“Excuse me?” Hanzo inquired, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion faster than he could maintain a stoic expression. Everything he had learned, of keeping his emotions stable, seemed to be slipping from his grasps with every second away from the moon. 

“What? I thought you liked fried chicken,” McCree said, taken aback. His fried chicken was damn good.

The prince deadpanned and reiterated, “What do you mean by ‘shit’ going South?” 

McCree moved past him and made a noise, like a snort, “You really ain’t from here if you don’ know that expression, sugar.” There was a second when Hanzo wanted to reach out and smack the cowman for his stupid nicknames; the feeling simmered down as the other continued to speak, “It’s like, y’know… When shit hits the fan.” McCree had his head in the pantry, searching for what he needed to make the chicken, and pulled back to look over, see if Hanzo understood that one. When Hanzo didn’t make any other expression McCree shook his head and said plainly, “When things go bad.” 

Feeling incompetent, and pressed by time, Hanzo unconsciously positioned himself a little higher, shoulders back, eyes piercing, just like his father had taught him-- a force of habit he would never let go of, “Be quick, then, McCree. We do not have much time, as you said.” 

For a split second, Hanzo noticed Jesse’s eyes narrowing, and he felt that at that moment, McCree was observing him. Picking out everything he could manage about his stature in attempts to figure Hanzo out. It made him feel naked and out in the open, he absolutely did not like it. As quickly as the moment came, it ended, leaving Hanzo struggling to pinpoint if the cowboy had even looked at him. 

McCree whistled as he brought out all the ingredients and chicken, without a care or concern. Not even his own premonition that this home would be swarmed with military pretty soon made him uneasy. It made the moonlander question what exactly the farmer had done in his lifetime; he was certain no measly farmer could have simply been able to deal with this situation so easily.

Hanzo was left standing and watching as the other got a meal for two prepared, with talent that did not match the persona McCree let on. Again, Hanzo came to terms with his incompetence as he thought of his incapability at basic survival. Cooking was another service that was provided by the castle and something Hanzo did not consider as an essential attribute to learn, but now, as he saw McCree moving around the kitchen with precision and knowledge, he could only feel a sliver of jealousy course up him. Without the castle, it was a crucial trait to learn, else he could starve to death. 

_Jesse will care for me._ The thought came on and Hanzo was quick to subvert it-- their arrangement could not function appropriately if Hanzo began to let his walls completely down. Trusting was one thing, but all other emotions… Those weren’t necessary. They were outliers, and could jeopardize any situation. To allow emotion to cloud one’s perception was the equivalent of one going around asking for trouble. Hanzo crushed the feeling, buried it deep inside him, and returned to the moment. 

Soon they were both eating and Hanzo could not help but keep his eyes trained on the clock-- it was almost an hour and a half passed and he couldn’t shake the feeling that McCree was taking this with little urgency. He didn’t want to show how on edge he was, though, so he ate as peacefully as one could with doom breathing down their necks. With the food finished and tossed out and, frustratingly, the dishes washed, they grabbed what belongings they had-- Hanzo, the bag of McCree’s hand-me-downs, and the cowboy with his light suitcase full of “all the essentials, sweetheart”, and set off. 

Exiting through the front door allowed for Hanzo to see a lot more than he had through the window. For instance, there was a strange house that Jesse muttered was a ‘barn’, and when they walked to the left of the house, Hanzo also noted several chickens and cows grazing lazily in a large field. He recalled seeing fences when he’d glanced over the house before taking his trip to the town, but the animals had not been in range. He had awoken in the mornings to chickens crowing, but that was normal, what with the abundance of farmers and their wandering chickens back at the moon. 

“The car’s ‘round here,” McCree said, tossing an object to Hanzo, who caught it with ease. “Get it started n’ I’ll be with ya. I gotta make sure these guys have ‘nough to eat for a while until I can get someone to I know to get over here n’ take care of ‘em,” McCree set his luggage next to Hanzo and rolled up his sleeves as he made his way to the animals. Hanzo hadn’t the time to ask what a car was, but he tried to look for it anyway, thinking that maybe it would be apparent when he saw it.

He’d been right. The car was a big… thing, that was blue in color, and had strange wheels that jutted a bit horizontally. Hanzo could not make sense of it and stared at this car with speculative interest. How on Earth were they to travel with this? Hanzo thought they were traversing on foot. Would this take them to their destination? It looked most similar to a wagon he’d seen commoners lug heavy things around, but those had vertical wheels that could move on the ground. All these seemed to do was sit on the ground, unmovable. Hanzo placed a tentative hand to the front of the car to see what it’d do, if it would do anything at all. When nothing happened, he glanced at the thing McCree had thrown at him. 

How on Earth would metallic things aid him in getting it “started”? Hanzo frowned in thought and glanced at the big, black thing attached to the many metallic shapes. There was one particular button that was just red, and was different from the other two buttons, thus Hanzo assumed it was the right button to press. Like some sort of on button, for… doing something. With care, he pressed on the red button…

The noise that came out of the wretched car made Hanzo jump out of his skin, trip on his own feet, and fall flat on his butt. It persisted despite having already terrified him and now made him frustrated, and severely unnerved. What the hell was this thing for? All it was doing to Hanzo was screaming! It was just his luck for McCree to have returned, seeing as he was still sitting flush-faced and angry at the damned mechanical beast. He scampered up and scowled at the cowman. “All this infernal thing can do is make noises! How are we supposed to escape with this?!” Meanwhile, the persistent honking served only to infuriate. Why wouldn’t it stop?

At that McCree took back the keys and stopped the honking, giving Hanzo an odd look. “You can’t possibly be tellin’ me you ain’t never seen a car before.”   
At that, Hanzo opened his mouth, shut it, and while pink-faced with embarrassment and anger, retorted, “No, I have not.” He glanced back at the contraption and then looked right back at Jesse. “And I demand you explain it before further making a mockery of me.” 

These seemed to be all the incorrect words because McCree just shook his head in disbelief. “You’re fuckin’ with me. Right? I mean, ya told me yourself you’re supposedly some sorta high society guy. What kinda high-society guy doesn’ know what cars are?” The light humor in his tone managed to wither away at the moonlander’s deathly glare. When it really dawned on McCree that Hanzo hadn’t an idea what the vehicle was, he shook his head and huffed out. “Well, alright. Let’s just get inside first, I’ll explain as we leave.”


	3. On the Run

The car ride was, to say the least, perplexing. McCree had went on about the ‘long history of cars’ to which he really just briefed over the creation of the old cars, the ones that used gas and couldn’t float, and the new cars that utilized solar or electrical energy and didn’t use wheels. Hanzo tried not to make faces at how alien the roads were, or the abundance of colorful signs that had nonsensical insignia, or sights, or the other cars, albeit it was hard.  
Then they hit a thing called a highway after a while, and all those sights were intensified tenfold. 

Hanzo also tried to say nothing that would further jeopardize his identity as McCree explained the nature of cars. As far as he understood, all humans knew what cars were, and him not knowing just made McCree know something was up. 

They lapsed into silence after that, Hanzo with his arms crossed, uncomfortable and trying not to show it. He watched as McCree reached over and pressed a button-- there was music playing. Like, out of nowhere, from all at once, a twangy song that had an oddly similar-to-Jesse sounding man singing. He did manage to suppress the bewildered look that threatened to surface.

“I doubt a guy like you would but, uh-- Ya listen to any country?” 

“No,” Hanzo said, even though the term made no real damn sense. Humans were fucking weird. “I do not listen to music.” That wasn’t true-- back at the moon, there had been talented players that would often serenade the Shimada family with song and dance. 

Recalling those nights where he and his family would listen, together, to the songs of the players brought memories he could not bear to think of at that moment. Repressing the memory, Hanzo chose to ground himself by glaring out the window, watching a billion and one different sort of people in their cars with a hollowness in his chest. 

As of late, Hanzo had found himself suppressing everything. A complete numbness was beginning to settle in his chest and mind, with only the will to find Genji really propelling him. Without that, he wasn’t sure the guilt and pain from losing his family, his entire home, was something he could handle in such an absolutely abstract land.

If he didn’t start looking for Genji soon, Hanzo was certain he’d lose himself to the despair that he was keeping at bay. A silent prayer was sent out that Ame would soon awaken. 

They had been driving for a while with silence and music, long enough for Hanzo to ask with a tone of impatience, “Where are we going, McCree?” They had stopped at a red light and it gave McCree enough time to glance over to while tapping the wheel. 

“To an old friend of mine,” McCree said, turning down the music to speak clearly, “she’s a real sweetheart but trust me when I say not to get on her bad side.” Hanzo grunted in understanding, then asked how long this trip was going to take. “Well, the drive’s ‘bout two days if we don’ take too many stops. This car’s good ‘nough to sleep inside’a tonight, if you don’ mind.” Two days. That was a distance farther than Hanzo anticipated, but he was sure Ame would be able to sense Genji.

Hopefully. 

Something unexpected happened, then. After all their silence, McCree started talking, asking things, little things that Hanzo didn’t find too harmful to answer. What his favorite color was, his favorite book, what he did as a pass-time.

“I learned the art of Kyūdō from my father,” Hanzo found himself replying, “when I was very young. It was my favorite thing to do when I had nothing else.” Some days, his learnings and responsibilities were overwhelming, and yet, there were some days where he had nothing more to do than to seek the void and hit a target. Those days he felt most alive and at peace. 

Reflecting on the Kyūdō ideals, now, Hanzo didn’t think he could shoot that bow no matter how much he physically yearned to. He was too out of touch with himself. 

“What’s ‘que-doe’?” The cowman asked, the butchered pronunciation bringing a slight frown on the Hanzo’s face. 

“Kyūdō is…” the moonlander paused to find a right way of phrasing it in English. “It is a martial art utilizing bow and arrows.” 

McCree let out a positive hum, “So, ‘s’it like archery?”

“Kyūdō focuses one oneness and the development of the spirit. Archery is simply hitting a target.” Hanzo discovered himself, for once, actually enjoying his time talking to McCree, at least when indulging in his interests. Despite being careful not to be weird in any way, McCree didn’t seem to think any of his responses were strange, so Hanzo grew a little more at ease. He even asked a few questions himself.

“Have you ever handled anything?” Hanzo meant a weapon, but the wolfish grin that dominated McCree’s face made a prominent frown stand out on his own.  
“Oh, I handled plenty o’ things, sugar, trust me,” he said, voice smooth as butter and practically an octave deeper. It was something that made Hanzo cross his arms and dig his nails into them. He would not admit to himself in a thousand years that the cowboy’s voice was amazing. Quite the opposite, Hanzo was convincing himself that McCree’s voice was the most annoying, weird sounding voice he’d heard in his life, which was technically true. “But if you’re talkin’ guns n’ shit, then o’ fuckin’ course. Used to use my trusty Peacekeeper all the time. Shootin’ that thing felt like… Therapy, or som’.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence, with Hanzo contemplating their conversation while resting his head against the window. Who was McCree? Could he really trust him? Not the layer of trust they had now-- a pact, more like it, but a real trust. The one where hiding himself wasn’t wholly necessary. Part of him, a part that was starting to grow on him, wanted to. But this world was unpredictable, as were humans, and his family was dead. Real trust felt like a leap too big to do.  
Hanzo’s eyelids drooped, after a while. The area around him turned from vast lands to forests to strange cities. They never seemed to slow down or stop, and at one point, Hanzo really had to use the bathroom. And his stomach felt like a black hole. He was going to open his mouth, perhaps to suggest a meal, but his stomach beat him to the punch; a loud rumble erupted from him. 

McCree let out a laugh, and Hanzo’s cheeks flushed a bright crimson as his signature scowl dominated his face. “Pretty sure there’s’a McDonalds, or som’, ‘round ‘ere, seein’ as you’re hungry. Pretty famished myself, I was jus’ trynna get as much distance between us and the feds.” Hanzo collected himself and crossed his arms in indingancy. Stupid body, betraying him when he needed it least. He held his tongue in asking what in the world a McDonalds was. 

It turned out to be a weird, red establishment that sold burgers. They parked and got out, and for a blissful moment Hanzo stretched his sore legs, and once inside, he watched people ask for a meal and got food in return. So by example, he asked for the same order the guy in front of him asked for, and McCree ordered his own, and they both sat down in wait. Hanzo went to the bathroom first and returned to see McCree with their meal, and cowman rushed off to use the bathroom right after, leaving Hanzo looking after their meal.

When the cowman returned, Hanzo was eating some fries, with hesitance, and McCree took a seat right in front of him. “Y’know, I’ve met tons of people in my life,” the other said, separating his meal from Hanzo’s, “but I ain’t ever met someone like you.” 

Hanzo bristled, as if McCree was suddenly going to somehow know he was from the fuckin’ moon. Quickly he chastised himself for the unnecessary paranoia, busying himself by unwrapping his burger. “I have never in my life met a man as strange as you.” 

There was a twinkle in Jesse’s eye as he grinned, “I like makin’ strong impressions. S’ harder ta forget someone like me, huh?” He tilted his hat, obviously alluding to his ridiculous attire. The plaid shirt, chaps, boots (thank gods these weren’t the ones with spurs), and of course, his hat. Hanzo had actually come to assume that humans just wore it naturally, that they had the attire of the cowboys in some of the books Hanzo had read. But now that they were out and about in the real word, Hanzo was second guessing himself. Others wore completely different outfits. 

“Ugh. I wish I could,” Hanzo replied, a playfulness in his tone that startled himself. What happened to the coldness he’d agreed to uphold?

The other man put a hand to his chest and mocked a flinch, “Youch. I gotta heart, honey, n’ you’re tearin’ it apart.”

“Perhaps that is my intention,” Hanzo said, arching a brow. 

McCree chuckled and shook his head, “Didn’t think you had humor in ya, sugar.” 

“Well, you do not know a lot about me, cowman.” The nickname was a response to the cowman’s own nicknames. If the other would not use his name, then he would not use McCree’s. Hanzo took a bite out of the burger and immediately blinked in surprise. That was a weird flavor. 

“I’m guessin’ ya’ve never eaten’ at McDonalds, either,” McCree said through a mouthful. It was disgusting. 

Hanzo nodded, swallowing before speaking, “Yes. It is not as bad as I anticipated.” McCree was too sharp for his own good. That damn cowboy was just too charismatic for his own good, too.

After their meal, and pleasant conversation, they got back into the gods-forsaken car. Hanzo had just gotten a nice stretch and now he had to get back in just to get the same soreness. Well, he could not complain; it was better than being turned in. 

The rest of the ride McCree had put something on called “indie”, and that was tons better than the country music. He found himself reflecting on the lyrics throughout the ride. It was nice, actually. McCree’s presence was not so bad. He could think of worse people to be stuck with. 

They only stopped at “truck stops” from time to time for bathroom breaks and the occasional snacks, until the sun started to set and McCree started yawning more often than not. They ended up parking in one of the truck stops and calling it a night. McCree showed Hanzo how to adjust the chair to lay down fully, and with a click of a button, the windows became significantly tinted. “If we keep this pace in the mornin’, we’ll be at Ana’s in no time, tomorrow.” The cowman said in a soft voice, heavy with sleep. McCree had placed his hat to cover his eyes, Hanzo could not help but stare between him and the ceiling of the car.

Hanzo only responded with a soft hum. 

“G’night, Han,” the other all but mumbled. 

“Goodnight, McCree,” Hanzo replied in return with a gentleness he’d not expected. At least McCree actually had the decency to use some of his name, this time. 

Everything was fine and quiet until McCree started to snore. It wasn’t gentle, either, it was like a fucking beast was resting next to him. The man certainly had the hair for it. Hanzo could not cover his ears with anything, thus sleep that night had been light at best. The moonlander’s last thought before finally entering a semi-deep state of rest was how much he hated McCree. 

🐉🐉🐉 

Morning came all too soon and Hanzo could just barely clear the absolute exhaustion from his sunken eyes. McCree, by contrast, awoke with a pleasant yawn and stretch. The prince glared daggers at the cowboy. 

“Informing me your snore could destroy a house would have been nice, cowman.” 

“Oh. Right. Sorry ‘bout that,” McCree looked a bit sheepish as he rubbed his eyes. “Haven’ really slept next to anyone for quite a while. Sorta slipped my mind.” Morning hair made the other man look disheveled and kind of… cute. 

Hanzo crushed that thought and did not spare a second of wonderment as to what it meant. 

They freshened up in the bathrooms of the truck stops and McCree bought a couple bottles of water from the vending machines for the trip. Then they were off once again, despite vehement protests from Hanzo’s body to get out and move more than just a few steps. 

As expected, the roads and signs and sights were all the same. McCree made idle talk here and there, but they were both still shaking off morning grogginess. It wasn’t awkward when they didn’t talk, anyways. 

Hanzo gave thanks to whatever gods were out there for the pure silence that prevailed, and not the strange country music Jesse had put on yesterday. He closed his eyes and slowly, very slowly, was lulled into sleep. 

It was a blank, peaceful nap that Hanzo very much deserved.

 

Until Genji appeared. 

Genji stared at Hanzo with fearful eyes and backed away. Hanzo was confused, at first, but then he realized he was holding a knife, and without meaning to, was advancing. 

「兄者！やめる！」His brother begged for him to stop, in a tone Hanzo had never heard and it hurt him to the very core. A large, white wall came from nowhere and Genji’s back came upon it, his large eyes grew larger still as his hands fumbled against the sturdy wall. Hoping he would find his own weapon, or a means of escape. 

Hanzo laughed-- it was an echoed sound but somehow he knew it was his body doing it. 「つねにあなたが大嫌いだった。」 _That isn’t true-- I love Genji!_ 「私はあなたが死にたい。」 _NO. I do NOT WANT HIM TO DIE. What am I saying?!_

Hanzo could do nothing to say the truth, his form was spouting lies, raising the knife as he advanced. There was no light and yet the weapon gleamed; eager for the kill. Genji flinched, begging with a voice too quiet to hear, body shaking in terror. Tears fell from his cheeks freely, now. This was not the Genji Hanzo ever wanted to see-- he was terrified. 

He fought as hard as he possibly could to keep the knife from swinging downward, but no amount of physical force could stop his body. The knife plummeted and a horrid squelch was followed by Genji screaming for him to stop, “Please! Please stop, brother!” while sobbing hysterically-- blood sprung onto the Hanzo’s pale face. It was warm. Genji was trying to physically fight Hanzo off, but it was of no use. Hanzo wanted to look away, run, hide somewhere he would never be found. All he could do was stare right at the face of death. 

As a cruel twist of fate, Genji’s face transformed into his mother’s, who sobbed with just as much fear and pain, and then turned into his father, and his grandmother, and everyone he had abandoned at the castle. No matter the face, or the pain he felt, his body continued its merciless kill, until there was nothing but a bloodied form slumped against the wall. A hundred different faces with the same expression of death. 

Only now did Hanzo find himself in control of his body. He dropped the knife, the one that was coated in blood, and looked at his hands. Warm blood. 

He screamed louder and louder and louder; the nightmare would not relent. He’d killed his brother-- his family. He felt on the brink of hysteria. 

Ame woke up in Hanzo’s body, strapped down and confined. She had felt Hanzo’s pure distress and was forced out of her hibernation. Last time she had taken over his body, it was so strenuous that simple rest could not suffice in recharging her-- Ame had to be completely out of commission, unable to even see what Hanzo was doing for an extended period of time. Now she blearily looked around, confusion striking her at space she was in. She barely realized McCree was talking to her as she tugged the seatbelt incessantly, then hit the window, breathing heavy in fear and agitation. Trapped. 

She needed to get them out now. Without paying any attention to McCree, she started trying to wiggle out of the seat belt and onto the space in the back. By then, a piercing, “Hanzo the fuck’s wrong with ya?!” Made her pause from her attempted flee. 

Ame stared at Jesse in the eye, calculating, weighing her options. This space was new and obviously the source of Hanzo’s distress, but Jesse was there. She had come to trust Jesse, since he was one of the only humans that did not want to hurt Hanzo. He had actually helped Hanzo, and for that, she trusted him. Perhaps they were not in as much trouble as she thought. 

Once she managed to slip back into the spot she had been earlier, McCree sighed out and shook his head, “Y'alright? You had a bad dream or somethin’?”  
“Where are we?” She asked, her voice Hanzo’s, which was a bit jarring. “What is...” She motioned all around her, to the car they were riding in. Now she noticed the world outside but she chose to place all her attention on McCree. 

McCree glanced at Hanzo quizzically, “Uh, are ya sick, Han? I told ya. This’s a car.” 

She hummed and looked at the car. All the buttons made her confused, she just kept her eyes right on McCree and asked, “Safe?” Dragons were not as eloquent in speech as they were through telepathy and Hanzo’s physical form could not utilize telepathy. She was stuck speaking in human tongue, which was a difficult feat.

The cowboy-esque man nodded, “Uh, yeah, we’re safe. ‘Least if we keep on the down low. Ya sure you’re feelin’ alright? Fever?” 

“Good. Feeling good,” Ame replied, smiling at McCree. That really threw the other man off because when the hell had Hanzo ever smiled? She took no notice, deciding that, since they were all safe, and McCree was there, there was no use in exerting more power than necessary. Ame trusted McCree. 

She relinquished her control. 

Hanzo’s head suddenly lolled forward, passed out, and seconds later Hanzo gasped awake. He’d revisited the grassland after such a horrible nightmare, which did a number on how he felt now. Confused, mostly. Confused and tired despite having slept. 

_Genji… It was just a nightmare, but it felt so real… I killed my family…_

They were parked, right then, on the side of the road. That was strange-- weren’t they just on the road, why were they stopped? McCree was trying to talk to him and Hanzo hadn’t realized until then; there was a soft ringing in his ears that was just ebbing away. “... Han? Hanzo?” McCree looked concerned beyond belief. 

Hanzo wiped the grogginess from his eyes and blinked several times, trying to remind himself that he wasn’t dead, “I apologize if I spoke during my rest…” 

“Ya remember what a car is, right?” McCree asked, causing a slight frown to appear on Hanzo’s face. “An’-- an’ you ain’t comin’ down with no fever, right?”

“You explained it to me earlier. There is no need for a re-explanation,” what was this cowman on about? “I am not sick. What do you mean?” 

“Ya were actin’ all weird, like ya forgot where ya were… Som’ happened, like ya passed out, n’ now you’re talkin’ normal again. Don’t’cha remember?” The genuine concern that was on McCree’s features put Hanzo on edge-- the man was not lying. Whatever had happened, it happened without his memory, just like the first time he’d been in the grassland. So that place wasn’t the Afterlife. It didn’t make it any less unnerving to return to his physical body. 

Hanzo would be lying if he said he was alright, yet his walls once again were struggling to keep up. His hardened expression melted away to vulnerability. At least right then he truly felt Ame, and he realized how empty he’d been before. He didn’t feel terribly alone, at least. Hanzo wiped a hand on his face to try and release some of the tension currently building inside of him. It seemed that no matter how he tried to appear normal, shit happened that painted him seven whole layers of fucked up. 

He was, for lack of better terms, completely fucked up. And all Hanzo really wanted, especially right then, was to be with Genji, his brother, and to have some solace. He wanted his family again. 

They had started driving once more, the jolt taking him out of his thoughts. Realized that he hadn’t given a single response to McCree. The other man didn’t seem to upset about that, but he was still throwing concerned looks over to Hanzo. He hated that-- hated the pity, the concern, everything. Hated how messed up his life was. Hated himself. 

Hanzo wanted to feel normal again. 

Hours passed, Hanzo tried to think of other things and was failing miserably. McCree certainly didn’t press and Hanzo kind of wanted to ask more on what happened, but he only felt like unnecessary questions were going to be asked and something would slip out. So after a long while Hanzo asked for the cowman to start playing music, something to distract his mind. 

This time, McCree played classics. Songs from the early 2000s, is what he called it. The songs weren’t so bad, though he found himself preferring Indie music, more. 

Funny how their escape was becoming a road trip. 

They managed to talk again about other things, when hours ticked by. They stopped at a Southern-style diner that was, apparently, McCree’s favorite. All Hanzo could think about was his hit-list, and how the people could potentially know who he was. He managed to convince McCree to let him borrow his hat, just for the peace of mind. The other man’s scent was dirt, cigars, and sweat. It wasn’t bad at all. 

They got settled down McCree, with his wild hair now untamed by the hat, pointed out meals in the menu to order. Hanzo looked at all of the options, the photos, and decided which he’d get. Once again, the only reason he knew what he was doing was because he kept an eye on the people around him, and listened to what they did. 

McCree was humming along to a song playing quietly from everywhere at once and Hanzo assumed it was the same trickery that did that in the car. They ordered their food, and he prided himself being seamless in his order. Then they waited, with Hanzo becoming more and more aware of how much he was stealing glances at the other man. 

McCree was attractive, yes, but not in a glaring way-- he was dark. Alluring. Mysterious, and Hanzo almost found himself snorting at that. They were both mysterious. Still… 

_What am I thinking?_ Hanzo scolded himself for such thoughts. McCree was not here to court him, they were here on the run. Hanzo couldn’t afford to slip up, now. If anything they were friends and nothing more, anything more would be too difficult. He tried to shove those feelings down and found some resistance and wanted to claw his face. He could NOT be falling for such a strange man, not now, not under these circumstances-- not ever.  
Their food arrived and McCree said something so funny Hanzo almost choked on his food. That made McCree laugh hard, though he tried to stifle it with his hands. “D-didn’t know ya could laugh, darlin’.” 

Hanzo threw McCree a light glare but the smile did not relent. He wanted it to, tried to, but it couldn’t. “I did not know you could actually make a joke.” They continued with banter, their food arrived, Hanzo kept his head down to avoid allowing people to stare at his face. Quiet, they ate, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.  
Then he heard Ame’s gentle voice cut through the silence that overtook them. 

**You like him. I think he would be a good choice.**

Hanzo’s eyes almost bulged out of his face, so he tilted the hat’s brim lower to prevent McCree from seeing. It had been a long time since she contacted him and she chose it to be this?

_Absolutely NOT. I do not want this man to be my mate, Ame. He is a friend and nothing more. Do not mess me up like that._

**As you wish. Remember that I can see what you see, young prince.**

A fierce flush overtook his cheeks and he kept the hat and his head low. There was nothing going on with him and Jesse-- no crush, no likes, nothing. Unnecessary emotions weren’t required. 

_It’d be best if you tried to see where Genji is instead of trying to find me a mate._

**I have tried. There is nothing in this area, I am afraid.**

Another wave of numbness washed over Hanzo. What it could mean was that Genji was much farther away, and that soon Hanzo would be in range and able to sense him. Then again, it could just as easily mean he was dead…

The food in front of him no longer looked appetizing. He shoved it forward some and stared at the table, his hands, recalling the blood that coated them. It did not help to calm his frayed nerves, and now negative things coursed through his mind. They were being chased, not only by the government, but by bounty hunters, those that cared little for what Hanzo was and cared much for what he was worth. For some shit money that meant nothing to him. 

It felt like he was being looked at by everyone around him, that they had their sharp, knowing eyes trained solely on Hanzo. That at any given time he’d be shot and the next moment he’d wake up to Talon’s nasty grins and sharp spears at his throat, mocking him, holding up the severed heads of--. 

Thankfully they left faster than his paranoia could force him to stand up and exit. The road was an unwelcome sight that just reminded him what the fuck they were doing, and not even closing his eyes helped. Images of the nightmare surfaced in bulk. Staring at the sky seemed the only thing that he was able to do, the fluffy clouds able to change his thoughts some. 

 

They made it to Ana’s sooner than he anticipated. The sun was high, and they had been travelling through neighborhoods for quite some time. There were so many people Hanzo could barely believe it. So many different shades of skin color and eye shapes and clothing, hundreds and thousands of houses, all with their own decorations and colors and cars. It was so different from the moon and Hanzo wondered if it would ever grow on him. They had finally parked in front of a two-story home that was painted warm shades of brown, and after a good, long stretch, they walked up to the front door. 

Hanzo couldn’t help but tell that McCree was a bit nervous, with the way he kept rubbing his hands together. He did not ask, though. It was none of his business. 

When McCree rang the doorbell, an old woman with an eye patch appeared at the front door, a look on her face that screamed she didn’t expect anyone to visit. “Jesse?” She blinked at the man in front of her, who was currently scratching the back of his neck. Hanzo noticed she had an eye-patch and vaguely wondered what happened. 

“Uh, hey, Ana. Been a while,” he smiled, not looking up at the small woman. 

Ana clicked her tongue, “Four years and you cannot even give me a hug, Jesse? You disappoint me.” When she opened her arms, McCree stooped down and gave her an embrace, to which she laughed, “You have grown harrier since last I saw you.” Her chocolate-brown eye landed on Hanzo and she pulled away from the hug to smile warmly at him. “And you have found yourself someone to settle with?” 

“Uh--” McCree started, only to be cut off by Hanzo.

“I am not his partner,” his tone was ice-cold but his rosy cheeks betrayed his cool composure. “My name is Shimada, Hanzo,” he bowed to the woman, “it is an honor to meet you.” 

Ana bowed in return, “My name is Amari, Ana, I am certain Jesse here has told you of me, though. Come, both of you, inside. I was just making myself tea.” The inside of her home had the same warmth that Ana emanated; the walls were soft reds and all the decorations, though weird, were entirely welcoming. Hanzo felt more at ease than he had in days, and the faint aroma of green tea definitely helped in relaxing him. 

“So what is the occasion, Jesse?” Ana inquired, motioning for them to sit down on the couch. Hanzo ended up sitting next to McCree, who put an arm up on the top of the couch. He could not help but feel as if they were too close for comfort. He kept himself stiff to avoid touching the other man. 

“Trouble,” McCree replied, to which Ana nodded solemnly. She then excused herself with a, “I need something to drink before we talk serious.” Leaving both of them sitting placidly on couch. McCree was looking at the framed photos that sat next to a table beside the couch in silence. One glance over revealed photos of Ana with the largest man Hanzo had ever seen, smiling warmly at the camera. There was another photo with them kissing, and another of their wedding. Dimly, Hanzo was aware that the man was probably long gone, there wasn’t a trace of a man that big in the house. McCree’s leg was jumping up and down and Hanzo could not handle it anymore. 

Without thought, he placed a hand on McCree’s leg to stop his jittering, only to realize that he was touching McCree. It felt too long before he spoke and McCree hadn’t moved a muscle in the time. “Please refrain from doing that, cowman,” his voice was calmer than he was as he retracted his hand. Years of training his voice for formality’s sake kicked in at the right time. 

“Nervous habit,” McCree said in a tone that suggested he was trying to laugh it off. His foot tapped instead and Hanzo supposed that was better than the whole couch moving. “Promised Ana I’d visit but… It was kinda hard.” 

Ana returned with three cups of tea on a tray that she placed on top of the coffee table, Hanzo gladly took one of the cups. “Now,” Ana started, taking a seat on the couch parallel to theirs, “what is this trouble you speak of?” 

McCree explained their situation and Ana listened grimly. Once he was done, she put her cup of tea down and folded her hands on her lap. “I will keep you safe here for as long as I can, Jesse, I can promise that.” She eyed Hanzo curiously, and sighed, “For once, I hoped you came here to share a nice time together, but who am I to complain? At least you are here, now.” 

She said they could stay in the guest bedrooms and she asked if take out pizza was alright, since she didn’t feel like cooking that night. Hanzo agreed without hesitation and McCree shrugged like he didn’t care. It all felt too… domestic, and Hanzo couldn’t help but confront Jesse when Ana had scurried off to clean up the guest bedrooms. “Is this all we are going to do? Stay here?” 

“For right now, yup. Until we gotta solid plan, Ana’s my best bet, darlin’.” 

Hanzo hated the feeling of being trapped and chased at the same time. 

“Tomorrow we’re goin’ places, though. Gotta change yer look up a bit, can’t have--” McCree grabbed onto Hanzo’s long hair, “--this no more. S’a dead give away.” At first, Hanzo was going to respond angrily that there was no way was he going to cut his hair, but then he just noticed how close McCree was. And how his hand had not let go of his hair, and how he could just feel how naturally warm McCree was from this close. And how initially he thought it was just nice.  
They made eye contact, Jesse’s eyes dark and curious, his tanned skin complimenting the brown of his irises in a way that made Hanzo feel funny. The other was testing the limits, pushing boundaries that should not be pushed. Making Hanzo rethink the whole trust thing. 

Hanzo pushed McCree’s hand with a burning face and crossed his arms to look away. “Do not do that.” Again, the years of practice allowed his voice to be firmer than his heart was. He did not look at McCree but he could hear the other man shifting, as if to get out of the situation that he’d gotten sucked into without seeming rude. 

“Right. Sorry,” McCree replied easily, though there was hesitance in his tone, there was something more that he wanted to say. A pregnant silence followed, in which Hanzo refused to speak, and McCree drummed his fingers on the couch for just a while. Then in a heartbeat the cowman was up and bellowing, “Ana! I’m raidin’ yer alcohol!”

“Do NOT touch my wine, Jesse McCree!”  
“Too late!” 

The sound of an angry woman rushing downstairs prompted McCree to rush over to the kitchen, leaving a disgruntled Hanzo sitting on the couch to mull over things. 

_We are not partners, cowman. I will not fall for you._


	4. Appearances

The pizza had been a huge, cheese monstrosity Hanzo almost didn’t eat. But skipping out on the southern food had made him starved and he ate despite himself, finding the liquid-dripping cheese beast to have been quite delicious. 

He and McCree did not speak that much and Hanzo could not mind. After all, they were not going to become lovers. Mutual friends running away together seemed the best fit for their relationship. 

Still. He found himself feeling lonelier than he should’ve. 

Ana was quite the delightful woman to talk to and Hanzo compensated the lonely feeling by indulging in careful conversation, where he deflected questions about his past and indulged in questions about her past. She recounted the story of how she met her late husband-- Reinhardt Wilhelm, an adventurous man with a heart of gold despite lacking some common sense. He contracted an ailment and died not too long ago, and she has been patiently waiting for the day to join him wherever it was death would lead them. 

It was a pretty somber story but she easily switched gears by talking about her daughter. Fareeha, was her name, and she was a talented young woman who was currently working as a pilot and she couldn’t be any prouder of her, albeit her visits were few and far between. She was at least glad that they were all together to talk, she’d been getting a bit bored feeding the birds and talking to them. Plus, those at the shooting range were becoming less and less people she wanted to associate with and more people that she’d rather punch in the nose. 

Soon it became late and McCree retired to bed, Ana paused Hanzo before he could go up to the room. She and him sat down on the couch, and she proceeded to ask a question Hanzo squirmed under. 

“I was simply curious as to what you did to land yourself such a bounty. I know we know not of each other,” her eye now seemed to lack warmth, “but I want to know if you are worth Jesse’s time. He has been through enough in his life and I worry that doing something like this for a person that has only done bad…” She let the statement hang, allowing for Hanzo to feel the weight of it. 

To tell the honest truth… Ana felt trustworthy. Hanzo could not trust humans, he knew that, but right now it was difficult and he was under her scrutiny, her eye squinted in a hauntingly familiar his mother did when she tried to get information from him. 

“I... I do not know why the government wants me. I know that Talon wants me,” and… Hanzo talked. Really talked about what happened in a way that he had never recounted, not to any Earthling ever before. Maybe it was the way she smiled and cared for them that made him think of his mom, or perhaps it was the sharp intelligence in her eye and her wit that made her a stark image of her. Or maybe he was exhausted of hiding himself. Whatever the case, Hanzo felt weak under her gaze and he could not hold back the real truth, of him and his brother’s escape from the moon, of his family’s death, of his escapades and grassland-experiences and McCree. And how now he was hopelessly searching for his brother and he didn’t even know if he was alive. 

When he could no longer talk, Hanzo stared at Ana with muddled fear, trying to regain his breath. It hit him that he made a mistake in telling her everything and he was too weak to build those walls back up. She knew him now, knew the truth, and he didn’t know what to do. 

“That… Is an outrageous story,” she said, and Hanzo blinked in surprise. So she didn’t believe him? “But I have lived long enough to know that oftentimes the most outrageous stories are the truest.” She moved to sit closer to Hanzo, and wrapped an arm around him, a tight embrace that left no room for pity; it was pure comfort. The feeling of contact he could not fight because of how nice it felt, and suddenly his emotions hit him, like he’d slammed into a brick wall. He thought of his own mother embracing him when he’d fallen and scraped his knee, or when he’d impressed her. At night, her gentle kisses on his forehead and the way she ran his head through his hair until he fell asleep. Tears, those that he’d kept in for too long, began to come out. At first it was one or two, but it quickly became a silent stream of tears. “I am terribly sorry for your loss, Hanzo…” 

They sat like that for a while, with her embrace forcing him to recall his loved ones, and his broken heart beating a battered tune. It was eased by the fact that someone understood. He was not alone, not like he’d thought. 

“Jesse needs someone like you,” Ana mused after they had separated, and the tears had come to a slow stop. “You both have been hurt. He needs someone to lean against just like you, and I see the way he looks at you. Perhaps you should consider telling him the truth, and he will tell you his.” Soon Hanzo found himself in his guest room, staring at the ceiling, pensive. Both Jesse and himself were running for the same thing and Jesse was doing it voluntarily. He’d told Ana the truth and he had yet to die. What was the harm in telling Jesse McCree?

And what of the cowman’s past?

Sleep overtook him before he realized. 

🐉🐉🐉 

The next morning Hanzo awoke to the scent of rice and eggs and heavenly things. He walked downstairs to find Jesse, in all his morning glory, nursing a cup of coffee, and Ana placing a plate of rice and eggs and beans on the table. “I thought I would try to make something familiar, for you,” Ana chimed when she saw Hanzo’s pleased expression. 

He sat down and scarfed the food like he wasn’t supposed to be a regal heir to a castle. It didn’t taste as good as the chefs back at the moon but fuck that, Hanzo enjoyed it all the same. It tasted like heaven. 

“Bless your heart, Ana, I don’ know how you got ‘im to eat like that,” McCree commented, who was slowly eating his own breakfast. 

Hanzo flushed some and pulled back, although there was not much food left to eat slow. He downed a cup of water and replied, “This is real food, not the stuff we have been eating while on the drive here.” 

“You said it was good!” Jesse retorted. 

“Good, but not as good as this.” 

The rest of their breakfast was nice, and Hanzo had honestly felt… Pretty okay. Yeah, there were people chasing the fuck out of them, but at least he had some people to depend on. And the pain of the loss of his family still hurt like a bitch, but… He’d let out some of the pain last night. So, for right then, he felt good.   
After they ate, Hanzo took a quick shower. It cleaned off all the grime from the past few days and left him feeling refreshed, and his hair was clean and not oily, as it had started to become. McCree had hopped in right after and came out looking like a wet dog, and Hanzo was not against pointing that out. 

Somehow the man had turned it against Hanzo and made a dirty joke that had him grinding his teeth.

Once they were both ready, McCree relayed the makeover plan to Ana, who patted both of their cheeks and offered a word of warning. Then the two hit the road, Hanzo had no real idea where they were going and McCree didn’t think he’d needed to explain.   
When would Hanzo tell him? 

They entered a busy area some time away from Ana’s house that was full of shops, was what Jesse called them, colorful places that from observation, offered different sorts of goods and services and Hanzo found himself being ushered into a barber shop. The stench inside made him crinkle his nose and immediately turn to Jesse to admit, “I have never done this.” 

“Ya’ve never gotten a haircut?” McCree questioned, and with Hanzo’s mute headshake, he rubbed his chin. “It’s not real hard, just tell ‘em what you want yer hair to look like. Then they’ll do it.” 

“I do not know what I want my hair to look like,” he said, fingering the tips of his long hair hesitantly. It was shoulder length, right then. In the Shimada castle, cutting one’s hair was… Disgraceful, really. So he never cut it. And now, as he watched other men cut their hair short, Hanzo grew a bit hesitant.   
He reminded himself he’d be harder to find if he cut his hair. 

When the barber sat Hanzo down, Hanzo didn’t know what to do, so he relayed, “I am not sure the look I’m going for, but I would like something different.”   
The man grunted and offered a catalogue, full of many different looking men and women with all different sorts of styles. If he was going to do this, he was going to go all out. Hanzo pointed out the one that caught his eye the most: shaved sides, short ponytail. A look that was completely different from his own. The barber put a black cloth all around Hanzo and got to work. 

Half an hour later Hanzo felt fucking nude, and the man looking at him in the mirror looked nothing like himself. He could not say it was bad, though; Hanzo honestly thought the look complimented the shape of his face, and with the way Jesse eyed him, he was pretty sure the cowman thought the same.   
Then it was McCree’s turn to get his cut, the man came out looking… Fresh. As all hell. His beard was still quite fluffy, but it was tamed, now, and his hair looked particularly clean and sharp. Hanzo had to look away to avoid letting McCree notice how red his cheeks got. 

_I have become some lowly crushing boy. I hate this._

Hanzo could not honestly say he didn’t want it, though. Not after last night, and now he was pretty certain he was coming to terms with the fact that… He liked McCree. The thought alone made his face feel like it was going to melt off, and when he started thinking about the possibility of kissing… With all his inner strength, he ignored those thoughts in favor of focusing on their next destination. A tattoo parlor. 

“Now, ya don’t gotta do this one, Han,” McCree said, leaning against the wall near the parlor’s front door. “Gettin’ a piercin’ would help makin’ you look different, though.” 

Hanzo agreed without questioning what ‘gettin’ a piercing’ entailed. He ended up getting a bridge piercing, and the process was quick, and admittedly terrifying. Hanzo walked out with a throbbing nose and a glum expression, but again… He looked different. And Jesse kept stealing glances at him throughout the entire process, so Hanzo felt this was turning out decently. 

The most thrilling of the experiences was clothe-shopping. Hanzo had never seen so many garments in one area before and he did a pretty bad job in masking the awe he’d developed as he scurried around trying on clothes. Jesse let him pick out whatever he wanted, and by the end of their whole escapade, both of them had new wardrobes. McCree was reluctant to change his attire but Hanzo argued that a normal-looking man would be fine, but walking alongside a living cowboy would arouse some suspicion after a while. So with reluctance, he’d bought a different set of clothing that made him look… fantastic. 

Then they were both in the car, Hanzo still getting used to the feeling of how short his hair was now and McCree humming some song he’d never heard, but did not mind. No music was playing, thus it was easy to divert Jesse’s attention by simply clearing his throat. 

“I have been… Thinking,” Hanzo began, keeping his eyes trained on the stretch of grass to the left of him. He felt Jesse glancing over at him. 

“What about, sugar?” The nickname made him blush and he cursed himself.

“I have not been entirely honest, with you,” Hanzo felt… nervous. Of McCree deciding that fuck this, it was too much, and deciding that maybe just leaving the moonlander to the wolves was way better than getting wrapped up in how fucked up his life was. With a deep breath, he too quickly said, “IamfromthemoonandIambeinghunteddownbythepeoplethatkilledmyfamily.”

A stunned silence followed, with only the sound of distant cars honking and the rushing wind from the slightly ajar window. Hanzo clicked the button next to him, and the window rolled completely up, silence cutting like a knife. Nerves threatened to make him pass out, or go back to the grasslands, or something.   
“The moon?” Jesse’s tone held slight disbelief, and the moonlander tried not to let himself feel dismayed. “I’m… I mean, I know you’ve got yer… issues, n’ all, but I didn’ think delusions were part of ‘em…” 

Delusions? Hanzo looked at McCree, who’s eyes were trained on the road, “I… I am not delusional. I am telling you the truth.” 

The other man sighed, and nodded, “Yeah, right, I got’cha.” It was a sort of concession that one knew the other person was not convinced.

Hanzo could not help but get angry. “This is exactly the reason I have chosen not to tell you. You brush it off as if it fake!” 

“I mean, I’m not sayin’ yer lyin’, Han,” that was exactly what he had been saying, “but I can’t really believe ya. There ain’t proof.” That got Hanzo mad, the sort of mad that flushed up one’s body and made their fists bunch up, and he was also kind of… sad. So he held his tongue and glared outside. McCree did not believe him. Or trust him enough to believe him, and that was what made him frustrated. He wanted to bridge the gap. He found himself wanting to trust McCree. 

McCree did not believe that there was a bridge to begin with. 

They reached Ana’s, with Hanzo remaining deathly quiet despite whatever McCree said to instigate conversation. Hanzo should have known better than to have given it a shot, the disappointment he’d felt was crushing and too telling. Ana might have been a different story, but McCree was just like the humans Hanzo had read of. 

That was, until Ame appeared, right in the middle of Ana’s living room, growling right at McCree. Her golden eyes were full of a flame. The man near shit his pants as he grabbed onto Hanzo, “W-w-- the fuck-- what?!” 

**This is the proof, Jesse McCree, Hanzo was giving you the truth.** The massive dragon that barely fit in such a small room leaned forward, huffing out through her snout. **If he is delusional, then I am certain it is contagious.** Before Ana could come down because of the commotion, Ame disappeared, surging back into Hanzo’s tattoo; it flashed bright blue before settling. McCree blinked at Hanzo and let go of his arm, and Hanzo was sure his sporting look of an I told you so made the other man feel more shit than he already did. 

“Was.. That? Dragon,” McCree blinked, as if he had not believed his own eyes. His eyes landed square on the tattoo with curiosity and stupefaction. “Han… I, well, shit. What was that--? I mean… That was evidence ‘nough…” Then his brown eyes bore right into Hanzo’s and he grimaced. “Yer family, then… That was true?” The moonlander carefully grabbed onto the cowboy’s shoulders and sat Jesse down in the couch, Ana poked her head in before making her way back upstairs with an “oh this is happening” face, and Hanzo recounted what really happened. The moon, his family, Talon, their murder, and Earth. Jesse looked dumbfounded but he did not decline Hanzo’s claims. By the end, he shook his head, and said, “I’m real sorry I… Shrugged it off, Han. Didn’t mean to disrespect ya like that, but, hell, if I came up to ya sayin’ I had a third nipple, ya’d wanna look before trustin’, right?” 

“Could your example have been less crass?” Hanzo deadpanned, and Jesse offered a smile. Which quickly turned into a slight frown. 

“‘Bout yer family…” 

“I… I think I am coming to terms with it,” Hanzo said, mostly so Jesse wouldn’t feel so inclined to apologize, as if it were his fault, or in his control. “All I truly need to do is to find my brother.” 

Jesse’s face lit up, the same way it had when he’d first thought of getting to Ana’s. His eyebrows shot up and a ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he said, determined, “Let’s do it.” 

“Do what?”

“Find yer brother! I’m pretty good at searchin’ for folks, I can help findin’ Genji.” 

For a second, Hanzo looked everywhere but Jesse, hoping that the gratitude was kept at bay. In case something fucked up happened and his hopes hadn’t been too high up to get crushed. “Are we not running away? How could we afford to look and run, at the same time?”

“Yer new appearance will help, for starters,” Jesse said, “and I’m not real sure why we can’t look. S’long as we’re careful. Prolly best if I don’ call you Han while we’re outside, either, so I’ll just stick to callin’ ya sugar n’ darlin’.” 

“You do that already,” Hanzo pointed out with narrowed, accusatory eyes, and McCree grinned. 

“S’cus I noticed it made ya uncomfortable. Gotta have fun, somehow.” 

Hanzo snorted a light, “Typical,” and rolled his eyes. With a pause, he said, “We can discuss ideas on how to search for Genji tomorrow, if that is alright.” Hanzo glanced outside, through the large window, and sighed through his nose. Despite the urge to search, it was starting to get a bit late. Going out late at night did not appeal to him, not after what happened last time, and he was lying if he said he was sure Genji was alive. The possibility that he wasn’t simply... “I’m… Quite exhausted talking about myself so much.”

They quieted for a moment, both minds racing to think of some exchange that would suit such a series of events. Then McCree quietly said, “I just got one last question. Ya have any idea what the whole… You forgettin’ stuff is ‘bout? S’like yer a different person.” 

Hanzo was going to open his mouth to respond he had no fuckin’ clue and stopped when a quiet murmur tickled the back of his mind. Ame’s voice rang clear, suddenly, as if she were right next to him. 

Except as she spoke, it was more feeling than words, more thoughts and images instead of tongue. His mind automatically transferred it to something that made sense, to his language-dependent mind. 

**That is me. When I take over. There is much to explain, and it would be best if you were with me for that. I will wait for you to rest to answer.**

“I… am to guess it is Ame’s doing, the dragon from earlier.” Speaking about that, Hanzo glanced around the room to make sure nothing had been destroyed by her appearance. Sure enough, she had been careful not to harm Ana’s home, thank gods. McCree just nodded, in a numb way that emanated the feeling of not understanding at all what that meant. 

Hanzo didn’t have a single clue, either. 

“Suppose it’d just be fair for me to talk ‘bout myself, huh?” McCree leaned back on the sofa as if he’d just realized he’d been at the edge of it. His right hand came up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Hanzo could not help but glance at his lips. They weren’t chapped; they were soft-looking and admittedly plump. He shook himself of the thoughts. Now was not the time, and he definitely did not want Jesse to think he was going to disrespect his past. 

The cowman hummed, tipping the brim of his hat back, that damn hat he always wore. “I grew up in New Mexico-- guess you don’t really know where that is, though. S’a beautiful place if you can stand the heat. I was, uh, part’a this gang for a long while, their name was Deadlock. Damn near ran that operation,” he snorted, scratching his neck before continuing. It looked like he was itching for a cigar. “Gangs are fuckin’ nasty. Shit happens in there ya never wanna know ‘bout, and I was, what? Seventeen, at the time? Thought I could rule the damn world, that age. N’ then I met a man named Gabriel Reyes.” 

The man was a bounty hunter, in his prime. McCree had a bounty almost the price of Hanzo’s own, and once he’d finally caught up to Jesse and cornered him, Jesse had managed to nick him in both shoulders before both their guns were kicked off of their assailants. They ended up in a bloody fist fight. 

Jesse was scrawny at the time and he couldn’t fight off the oxe of a man that was going to kill him. So when he could no longer fight, he laid on his back and waited for the final blow. His brain was fried to hell and back and he was certain he’d swallowed a tooth or two, it was the most intense pain he’d felt in a while, and he kept imagining how painful the last hit would be. 

It never came. With the limited eyesight Jesse had-- “wasn’t able to see jack-shit”-- he was able to make out Gabriel standing up from atop him and spitting blood on the floor next to him. 

“He took me under his wing,” Jesse laughed, a bitter sound, and he shrugged his shoulders, “don’t know what the fuck he saw in me, but that man… He was some sorta saint. With the connections he had, he managed to wipe my name clear off the bounty-list and helped me outta Deadlock. Gave me a life I never thought was possible-- doin’ justice, in my own way. It was the best time o’ my life.” 

There was a quiet period of time where Jesse was reflecting and Hanzo gave him some time. Curiosity won out soon enough, though. 

“... What happened?” Hanzo inquired, brown eyes searching Jesse’s expression. Guilt was wholly present and he knew that look like the back of his hand-- the empty-eyed stare, glazed-over eyes reimagining the very instant that haunted them. McCree managed to shake it off, to look at Hanzo, then at his arm. The one that was mechanical. 

“I fucked up, s’what happened. Got real stupid, one day, didn’ follow directions…” A deep pause, and McCree muttered, “I killed him.” His voice had grown quiet. Pained. Hanzo didn’t say a word as McCree took time to find his words, stretching out his mechanical fingers and closing them. After a few long seconds, Jesse took a deep breath and said, “Couldn’t live that sorta life, no more. That kinda guilt ruins people. Ruined me. I checked out to a quiet farm far from my problems n’ tried to live the rest of my life away from it all.” There was an unspoken sentence, there-- until Hanzo showed up. “N’ now we’re both here. S’funny how the world works.” 

Both of them sat in the afterglow of their thoughts, both feeling equal mix of sadness and relief. The perplexing feeling of breaking a wall hard times had put in place, hard-work washed away within a night. A curiosity inside of Hanzo that he could not subdue no matter what made him shift and eventually let out, “Why have you truly come to assist me? You could have left me out on the streets.” 

“Yer cute,” was McCree’s initial response, until Hanzo stared him down and he tried to adjust his hat to take some attention away from his face. “I dunno. I knew yer face. You went through some shit n’ you were on the damn bounty list. N’ I guess I wanted to be like Gabe, or som’, givin’ people a second chance… I guess I saw myself.” 

 

And then Jesse, quite loudly, exclaimed, “Fuck this, I ain’t gunna sit n’ feel like shit tonight. I’ma grab som’ to drink.” As Jesse stood up, he threw the moonlander a curious look, “Ya want som’? Dunno what y’all got on the moon, but Ana’s liquor’s top notch.” 

A very bad, bad idea. 

“I would not mind some.” It was to unwind. Just to forget. They had harder times in front of them, still. 

The cowboy came back with a bottle of bourbon whiskey, two shot glasses, and two bottles of water he’d fit underneath his armpits. “Did y’all have this shit in the moon, or are ya just agreein’ to som’ you don’t know, ‘gain?” 

Hanzo huffed out, “We had alcohol, yes. I was not as fond of it as my brother.” Responsibilities of the soon-to-be heir hindered social interaction quite often, though he could have definitely squeezed in time to drink hard. He wasn’t the biggest fan, he supposed. 

The other man poured two glasses to the brim and handed Hanzo his, and once Hanzo had it, Jesse raised the small glass and said, “To bein’ fucked up.”   
With a grin Hanzo repeated the mantra and downed his shot. The taste was awful and he could not fight the cringe and twitch his body gave at the bourbon.   
They both drank until Hanzo felt numb and stupid and kept leaning on Jesse. 

McCree’s slurred voice sounded like music to his ears, “Y’know, I thought-- I was like, damn, when ya got that haircut,” McCree said with a lopsided grin, the half-empty bottle of bourbon resting open on the counter now ignored. “N’ tha piercin.. Jus’ tops it all off. Yer hot ‘s fuuuuuuck.”

The drunkness in him ignored all other shit-- Hanzo liked Jesse more than he really should, but honestly fuck that all. He giggled and with some difficulty managed to straddle Jesse. “And… I consider you very… attractive,” he let out, hands resting themselves on Jesse’s chest. Both of them stared at each other for a long moment until McCree’s hands fumbled to find themselves on Hanzo’s hips, and by then, things got out of control faster than he could blink. 

Hanzo had crushed his lips against Jesse’s and the man underneath replied with a feverity that kept the fire in him burning. He’d been right; McCree’s lips were damn soft, and fuck, he was on top of the other, and they were wasted, and he just couldn’t control himself. They made out, tongue and tooth, with McCree’s hands squeezing his hips and moving all over his torso. At one point, when his hands slipped under Hanzo’s shirt, he had to pull away to breathe and shudder.  
It all felt right, even though he was starting to get dizzy and the world around him began to tilt and spin, like he was on a high-speed carousel. 

Actually, things spun a little too much and it was starting to make him forget what he was enjoying. Hanzo rested his heavy head on the crook of Jesse’s neck and hugged the cowman close. A part of Hanzo, despite the numb, remembered he’d surely regret it if he messed around with his piercing, so he tried his best to be careful in snuggling close. 

A gentle hand was placed on his back and the warm man below him asked, “Y’alright, sugar?” 

“Mmm… spinnin’...” Hanzo replied, keeping his eyes closed but the feeling was all the same. It all tilted and circled and he was trying to let it happen, to not fight the feeling. All he really wanted to do was make out, though. 

With a snort, McCree shifted forward and grabbed the bottled water in front of them, “Y’ain’t drank ‘nuff water…” The cowboy helped him down some water since Hanzo couldn’t do it, then out of nowhere, managed to shift around so that his right arm was underneath Hanzo’s legs and Hanzo’s arm was wrapped around Jesse’s neck. “S’it ‘lright if I jus’ take you to my room, Han?” 

The word gentleman rushed to his mind but all Hanzo could do was chuckle like an idiot, flushed-cheeked and unable to even lift his head from Jesse’s chest. “… Yeahhh.”

Soon, after a period of difficulty when the cowman had reached the stairs, they were both in one room and Jesse gently plopped Hanzo down on the bed. Hanzo wasted no time in pulling McCree down to his level and kissing the lights out of him, before the other man gently pulled away. A hand cupped Hanzo’s cheek and Jesse looked at Hanzo’s face, right into his eyes with a clarity that was almost sober. Almost. “Y’aint… Gotta do nothin’, Hanzo. Jus’ sleep if ya want. I ain’t.... I ain’ taken ya here to take ‘vantage o’ you.” 

Hanzo just laughed, in earnest, and said, “I have liked you for a while, you… cowman.” The name had him laughing more, and he only paused to attempt in sounding sexy when saying, “Come here and kiss me.”


End file.
